With You I Will Leave
by Five seas
Summary: Drama-ridden Bella Swan needed a break, when an unexpected discovery on her father's attic sends her on a trip to the past. As she struggles to find secrets of people long dead, she also finds out some truths about herself and a handsome, brooding man
1. Chapter One

_**I do not own "Twilight" or "Possession"... but if you haven't seen the latter, then you've really missed out.

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Chapter one

Tap-tap-tap...

The wind blowing outside was chilly, yet she felt completely hot. Her breathing was fast and erratic; her body was twisting in all sorts of directions just to get comfortable. She wanted to sleep. She wanted to sleep so badly, yet the rain wouldn't let her. She'd always hated Forks because of the rain.

Tap-tap-tap…

She threw off the covers and hugged her pillow, trying to get some rest. But then she was too cold, so she went to retrieve them. Her curly locks tickled her neck, so she grabbed a rubber band and tied it in a loose knot. It was messy and greasy, she noted, and decided that she needed to take a bath in the morning. If there was any hot water in the house, that is.

The young woman got out of bed, straightened the wrinkled sheets and lay back down. Ok, now she would sleep. She was confident she would sleep. She closed her eyes and started counting sheep, but unfortunately, her earlier remark about her hair made her start thinking about it instead. Greasy hair. _I need a bath_. Hair. Bath. Bath. Bath. Bath….

"Fuck!" she screeched into her pillow, before standing up decidedly. If a bath was what she wanted, a bath she was going to get. Who cared if it was nearly two in the morning? It was her own damn house and she could take a bath whenever she damn desired.

The anger was gone as soon as her naked feet came in contact with the floorboards. It was as if she was pierced by a needle, or drenched in cold water. She wrapped her arms around herself and reached for the comforter, wrapping it around herself before checking out the heater. Although it was the middle of July, the nights at Forks, Washington, were chilly.

After cranking up the heat, she headed downstairs, resolved to make herself a cup of tea as she waited for her room to warm up, and turned on all the lights. A couple of years ago, she would not have permitted herself such a luxury, thinking that it was a waste of electricity, but now she didn't care. In the darkness, the empty rooms and the white sheets spread out over the furniture looked ghastly, haunted. As if the freezing house wasn't enough, it was as if nature itself was trying to spook her. And while Isabella Swan was not the type of girl to scare easily, she certainly was not about to risk a heart attack because she didn't want to give a few dollars for electricity.

Her old home in Forks was a tiny, narrow two-storage house. She remembered it as steadfast, if not terribly modern, but now, without anyone to take care of the repairs, it was falling apart. The floorboards creaked, the wind moaned in the empty hallways, and the air was stale and full of dust. It was the epitome of abandon, and she couldn't help but feel slightly guilty of it.

Isabella hadn't even taken into account the horrible state of the house when she had arrived earlier that day. She had had just about enough energy to start the gas and water before making a beeline for her old bedroom, hoping to get some sleep after the exhausting ride from Seattle… But she couldn't.

Had this been the first time she could not sleep, Isabella would have blamed it on the day – the one-year anniversary after her father's death. However, her insomnia had started not too long after the funeral, and she already knew that battling with it was futile. So, as she took in the sad state of the house, she decided to forgo tea and clean up instead.

To be honest, she did not want to come back, not really. She was not in want of work – last year, she had successfully finished her dissertation and been assigned as an Assistant professor at the University of Washington, which was by all means no small feat. However, after her father's passing away, she had been… for a lack of a better term, off. Isabella was good at hiding her condition, and for the strangers she looked no different than most women in their late twenties. She went to the university, taught the classes, wrote, interacted… she lived, but passionlessly, as if she was going through the motions automatically.

Her friends, the ones that saw through her masks, compared her to a robot or a zombie… but she had not yet started wandering around with her hands outspread in search of brains, so they cut her some slack. And if Alice and Rose had to be honest, Isabella was doing much better now than she had. At the beginning, she had been so listless and tired they had had to feed her like a baby and drag her forcefully to the shower. Words like 'depression' and 'emotional duress' were thrown left and right, and for a while they had been seriously worried about her.

Eventually, she had resurfaced, but she had been changed irrevocably.

The first floor was clean and she moved to the second, pausing only for a second in front of the mirror suspended near the staircase. Like most mousy little girls, Isabella had grown up thinking that the mind was what mattered, that the body was not important, and therefore did not spend a disproportional amount of time standing in front of looking glasses and indulging her own vanity. What she saw in the clear surface wasn't much different than what she saw every day – pale, heart-shaped face with bloodless lips, too large brown eyes and limp, lifeless hair. Her looks matched the house – dull and haunted.

_What has become of me?_ She asked herself as she made her way up the stairs.

Alice would have said she was still grieving and needed time to recuperate.

Rose would have said she was being a conformist and that she always chose the easy way out.

Isabella didn't need a degree in psychology or biochemistry to know what had happened. During the past decade, all of her efforts were concentrated on finishing school and getting academic recognition. Now that this goal was accomplished, her next step seemed obvious – to work her way up the academic ladder and become a professor. It appeared simple enough, but not as challenging as before. The loss of her father, one of the few people she looked up to, had made things look mundane and boring.

In short, she had lost her drive.

It wasn't a problem, per see. Isabella could re-discover the wonderful world if she only set her mind to the task. It was late May; June was just around the corner. Two more months, and then there was August, all for herself. She hadn't even taken a sick day the whole year, so she could enjoy an extended vacation, should she wish for it.

But what could she do on this whole month of freedom? Her salary wasn't all that spectacular, so she couldn't afford anything extravagant. Rose and Alice would love to buy her a fancy holiday, should she ever express a desire for it, but all three of them knew that it would be a cold day in Hell before Bella Swan asked for something. She didn't even celebrate her birthday.

She listed the different vacation possibilities within her price range and came up with nothing. Hell, even that trip to Chicago for the conference on Semiotic language she had to take at the end of July would cost her a pretty penny, even with the University paying for her plane tickets.

As she worked her way through the second floor, she started doing a mental list of all the things she needed to do once the shops opened. A little after she had lost her sleep, the twenty-four hour period was divided not on day and night, but rather by the times the shops opened and closed. She would have to take a shower, and then buy some groceries for the people she expected. She would buy flowers to take to the graveyard as well. And, of course, she would also have to take a moment to prepare for the nerve-wrecking conversations she would have to have with Billy Black and Sue Clearwater.

Her lips tightened into a hard line. To say that she was nervous would've been an understatement. In fact, she dreaded that encounter more than having to actually go to the graveyard. She had studied for almost a decade in order to get her Ph.D. and had seen more than one variation on the life after death topic. She could always find comfort in the thought that the body was just an empty shell now, and that the spirit lived on in the memories of others - all she needed to do was walk around her old home to find Charlie again.

That was part of the reasons why she wouldn't give up the house. Her mother had, on several occasions, suggested fixing it up and selling it, so that she wouldn't have to deal with the pain whenever she went to Forks. But Bella hadn't been ready to give up the memories (she still wasn't), and being the child of two divorced parents, there was always a part of her that questioned Renee's judgment. What was more, the house had been in the family for four generations – what right did Bella have to just sell it, without thinking about the consequences? What if, years from now, she drove through town, felt a pang of nostalgia and pulled over at the curb. She would get out, walk down the lane, and have some strangers open the door to her. The idea of being treated like a guest in your own home made her feel sick.

* * *

She left the cleaning of Charlie's room for last, going through the rest of the second floor before dragging her feet up to his door. Of course, she had been there after… after the funeral. She didn't expect to find bloodied sheets or vomit on the floors. It had been straightened out, cleaned up... but somehow, she felt a sense of dread as she paused in front of the threshold. Then she took a fortifying breath and pushing the door open.

The room was small and furnished spartanly. After the divorce, Charlie had moved out of his parents' old bedroom and back into the old nursery, leaving the third room on the floor for her use. It had seemed weird to her at the time, but when she thought about it, it was clear that it had been a sign of Charlie's resolution to never get married again. The single bed, the single room, the overall bachelor lifestyle – while he was not afraid to face a lunatic with a gun, her father had done everything to make sure his heart was safe.

She knew all that, but upon seeing his room, with that narrow bed and ratty old chest of drawers did something to her. The street lamps gave everything an eerie, yellow sheen that somehow made Bella think of hospitals and sickness. Her knees bucked and she reached for the lights witch before she sank to the floor on her knees. Her hands came up to cradle her head and she took a series of deep breaths to keep herself calm.

It wasn't fair. Advanced degrees be damned, she couldn't be rational. Not when she was at his house, at his room, not when she could still recognize his presence after it had been thoroughly cleaned and stripped of any identity. She couldn't sit there and think that this was just the natural order of things, that everyone had to die and that he was always there in her thoughts. Because it wasn't the same. Because he had been her father. Because he had saved so many lives, helped so many people, and yet didn't live to see his own daughter married and happy.

Gathering herself, she straightened up and looked around. It looked fairly clean – perhaps she could get away with polishing the furniture and opening the windows to get some air in. As she set to the task of doing so, she noticed the small door on the end of the room.

There were still a few hours before the shops opened, she could check out the attic. Anything to put off cleaning Charlie's room.

The attic was a small, dry room that had been used as a storage space for old furniture. There were a couple of desks in need of repair and a couple of bookshelves that housed some of her great-grandmother Helen's books. Bella had tried reading some of them when she had been in high school, but most of the stuff hadn't made much sense to her at the time.

She sighed and walked around, touching the old spines gently. A fine layer of dust settled on her fingertips and she rubbed them thoughtfully. It was dirtier there than the rest of the house – apparently, nobody had been interested in great-grandmother Helen's book case. Well, it wasn't much of a surprise. The only things Charlie had to read were the records at the police station – he probably needed the newspaper to wind down. And Grandma Marie had been more interested in cooking and gardening.

Bella paused thoughtfully, before reaching out and seizing a small tome of Shakespeare's tragedies. She flipped through it, reading a few lines from "Macbeth", before closing it and returning it to its place. Too dark. She took the Collected Poems of W. B. Yeats instead. Then a copy of "Pride and Prejudice", long worn and tattered. Then a book about plants. Her great-grandmother had had quite an eclectic collection.

An hour later, Bella was sorting through the books, arranging them from one shelf to the other, trying to decide which ones she wanted to take back to Seattle with her and which ones she should leave. There were some that were in a desperate need for repair. There were some that were practically falling apart. She was clearing the top shelf when she noticed something white in the far corner. Reaching out, she patted around in the dust before seizing a small paper boat. She stared at it, surprised, and then laughed that such a small trinket would be forever stored there. Just as she was about to put it away, however, she noticed there was writing on it.

Bella unfolded the little boat, thinking that it was just some grocery list or a small reference her grandmother had made in regards to some quote. It wouldn't be surprising. Instead, she found a letter in an unfamiliar handwriting, crumpled and wrinkled so badly that she had a hard time making out the words in the muted morning light.

_My dear Madam,_

_I thank you for your congratulations on my upcoming nuptials, which I received with great pleasure. However, I am sorry that this happy event should become the cause for the discontinuance of our correspondence. I have always been thankful for our discussions, albeit the great distance between us, and I will be forever grateful that you accepted my meager offerings of friendship._

_For your sake, I will not repeat my words from my last letter to you, for I realize they were unjust. I return your letters, as you requested, together with a copy of my small work, hoping that it would live up, if only by little, to your expectations. _

_I cannot express how much it pains me to cease contact with you… Had I been in my power to do so, I would have come in person to beg you to reconsider. Should you ever wish to resume contact with me, my address remains the same. My wishes and feelings have not altered, nor will they ever change. _

_I remain, dear Madam, your true friend,_

_Edward Masen, Esq._

She didn't know how long she stood there, just reading the letter and trying to make some sense of it. And then, as her mind finally caught up with her, her head reeled in shock and she was capable of one single, coherent thought:

"What on Earth does this mean?"

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A/N - Comments are always appreciated.


	2. Chapter Two

_**Ok, since I stupidly forgot to do that last time, big, huge thanks to Courtney, for being amazing and for betaing this thing for me. Can't do it without you, doll!**_

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_**Chapter Two**_

The day started… better than what Bella had envisaged. Or at least she thought so.

After cleaning Charlie's room, she had had enough time to take a shower and then go out to shop. The whole ordeal took less than two hours, which was pretty good considering she had to talk to everyone she saw. The people were kind with her – they didn't insist on discussing the reason why she had come there, or press their belated condolences on. There were even some of them that she was glad to meet, like her high school English teacher, Mrs. Bates, or Mr. Mason, who recommended her for a scholarship at UW.

But it was impossible to go through the day unscathed. Forks was a small town, and Bella had memories of nearly every place. Like the diner, where Charlie had been eating every Thursday – the owners still kept his table saved on these nights. Or the cinema, where Jake had taken her on their one and only date. Or… the list could go on. Her memories of her childhood and adolescence, usually foggy and uncertain, came back, triggered by a picture, smell, or sound….

And when she managed to ignore it, she would hear somebody talk about the past. People didn't even wait for her to be out of earshot before they started gossiping, reminiscing about the events that had driven her out of Forks, comparing… Bella often found herself slowing her pace and listening to the quiet whispers, and often finding herself regretting she did so:

"_Charlie was such a fine man…"_

"_I remember how he once…"_

"_Poor girl, it was such a blow to her…"_

_"Well, she seems to have coped with it…"_

By the time she went home, her eyes stung and there were tiny red crescents on her palms where her nails had dug in – a physical sign of the struggle she had gone through. Some parts of her screamed that she should have turned around and faced these old gossips_. "What do they mean to accomplish by talking behind my back? Why can't they look me in the face and be honest? Who are_ _they to say that I've coped with it?"_ On the other hand, the rest of her demanded that she stood her ground and walked with her head held high. _"My feelings are none of their business; I won't sink to their level."_

* * *

At first, she had thought she would bring Charlie some flowers, but when she thought about it, what would the point be? Her father had always been a no-nonsense sort of man - thanks to his good example, Bella never bought anything she didn't need or managed her finances recklessly. And how would that help her remember him, anyway? Charlie Swan had liked to look at pretty things, but he would have never bestowed so much time and effort to something so capricious and ephemeral. So, along with the small bouquet of freesias, she also took a bottle of Gray Goose and toasted him as she sat cross legged on the ground. She poured a shot down on the earth and wondered, for a second, if the alcohol could somehow bring him to life, and smiled at the notion of Charlie's skeletal hand emerging from the ground and grabbing her ankle, demanding more booze.

However, things started to go downhill when she went home. The meeting with Sue and Billy lasted for no more than ten minutes, but it felt like it went on forever. Neither knew what to say, even though Billy was Charlie's best friend since childhood and Sue was probably the first woman he had wanted to date after Renee. Bella had wanted to be with them as they had been the two most important people in her father's life… and they hadn't spoken to him in nearly a decade because of her.

When they left, though, Sue gave her a hug and Billy said that getting Charlie some good alcohol was the best present she could give him. It was a small consolation for her.

Bella walked them to the door and stood on the porch as Sue helped Billy into her old truck and drove away. But as she was about to go back inside the obituary on the door caught her attention. She didn't remember pinning one there – Forks was such a small town that everyone knew the birthdays, marriages and deaths. But when she took a closer look at it, she realized what it was.

Under her high school graduation photo, in bold text, was written:

_**Isabella Marie Swan**_

_**13.09.1982 – 10.07.2000**_

_**Hated daughter, horrible friend and unfaithful lover**_

_**IT SHOULD HAVE BEEN YOU**_

Her guts churned and she looked around her quickly. The street was empty, but she knew that the nosy neighbors and the culprit were somewhere, watching her every move. Without missing a beat, she tore the offending paper, grabbed a lighter from her purse and walked over to the trashcans, lined up near the curb. She firmly lit the fake obituary and dropped it in the aluminum can, and then watched as it turned to nothing but ashes. Still keeping a straight face, she walked back to the house and closed the door without banging it. _Let's see what those nosy bitches think then_, she thought, but as soon as she was safely inside, she was on her knees, sobbing.

Ever since she could remember, Bella Swan had felt guilty. It could have been anything; from her parents' divorce to the boy she never even met that fell from his bike and scraped his knee in front of her house. As the years had passed, she had learned to cope with it, learned to accept that it wasn't always her fault. And by far, the biggest catastrophe had been Jacob Black… both literally and figuratively.

She had been to a party at La Push with some of her friends, celebrating graduation. She had known that Sue Clearwater's daughter, Leah, had been crushing on her childhood friend Jacob Black, and had agreed to go with her to help her catch him. What Bella hadn't known was that Jake had always been in love with her.

The party had started off well, but then someone showed up, distributing some strange packages. Suddenly, they were all laughing louder and harder. It hadn't taken Bella long to recognize that someone was passing off drugs, but she didn't know most of the people, so she couldn't tell who it was. She went looking for Leah, intending to abort the mission and go back to Forks. She had found her preparing to snort coke with Jake and some of his friends.

Bella tried… nobody could blame her for that. She knew Leah liked Jake, but going through such lengths for a guy wasn't worth it. Then, when Leah refused to go anywhere, she had tried scaring her by announcing she was going home. Nobody expected that Jake would jump at the chance to drive her back, and before Bella could tell what was going on, he was dragging her over to his car. As he drove her in his recently rebuilt Rabbit, she had tried talking sense into him. Told him that drugs weren't a good thing and that Leah wouldn't want a man like that. He had started to laugh, told her that he loved her, Bella, and that he didn't give three straws about Leah. When she had accused him of being high, he had gotten angry; they had started arguing… all while he drove quickly down the narrow path near the First beach cliffs. And then he had looked ahead, grinned maniacally and floored the gas… and plowed the car straight into a lamp post.

The aftermath was horrible. Jake had been killed on sight while Bella had been gravely injured. The hospital bills and the time she spent in rehab drained away her college funds, the whole town was in shock and the relationship between Charlie and Billy Black had been ruined forever. Leah had been devastated, and insisted that nobody was high and that Bella probably did something to Jacob to make him crush the car.

It didn't take a Ph.D. to know who pinned the offensive obituary, then.

Bella got up and slowly walked up the stairs, wiping her tears and steadying her breathing. She walked into the old master bedroom, stripped and stood in front of the full-length mirror.

In the bright light, her body looked paler than usual, surreal. Her hair had grown out and hidden the scars on her head, but the one in the middle of her chest was still there. The contrast with her usually flawless skin was striking, grotesque, as if she were the survival of an anatomy lesson. Her stance was wrong too - her leg had been broken in three places, and even though the bones had repaired, she still walked with a little limp because of it.

Bella wasn't lacking in male attention - though she always pulled her hair into tight buns and wore glasses, she didn't appear completely asexual. Her body was still curved in the right places and her clothes hinted of her passionate persona. But whenever she started a relationship, she had to explain how the scars had gotten there… it placed a stigma of sorts on her, brought society's scorn on her, and condemned her to loneliness.

She had coped with that too, coped with everything – the pain, the isolation, life - and she wasn't about to let Leah make her feel like she got off easy after everything she went through.

* * *

As she was dressing, she was reminded of that crumpled letter. It looked so much like her, locked away, forgotten, alone. Who was Edward Masen, and why had her great-grandmother been talking to him? His letter talked about returning her letters, along with his 'work'. What had happened to them? Had Helen disposed of them? Were they so compromising? Bella had never met her, but her grandma Marie had always described Helen Swan as a prim and proper woman. Who was Edward Masen?

Bella's feet took her back to the attic. The bookshelves were re-arranged, but she had barely given some of the old books a good look. She had picked up, at whim, the ones whose titles sounded interesting or familiar. And when she examined the spines, she noticed a rather large tome, entitled "Memories from the Great War". She was no historian, but she knew that between 1918 and 1945 World War One had been called "The Great War"; therefore, the book had to be written in that interval. Curiosity got the best of her and she opened it – as if on cue, the dusty pages rustled underneath her fingertips and sheets of paper, written by hand, peeked out between them.

Bella picked one up and read the first lines. _"Dear Edward…"_

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**_A/N - Comments are always appreciated, loves._**


	3. Chapter Three

_**Compliments to Courtney for beta-ing this. This is being posted, which means two things - one, I got access to the net. Two, twilighted accepted the chapter. Ain't able to sent you a letter, doll, but I'm saluting you from here anyway.

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Chapter Three

The drive back to Seattle was effortless, at least in Bella's eyes. She left Forks early in the morning and was rewarded with a peaceful drive in the bright daylight. On the backseat of her car were a couple of cardboard boxes, filled to the brim with books, and in her bag sat a secret waiting to be discovered. Every ten minutes she pulled over to make sure that the book by E. A. Masen was safely tucked and that the letters were pressed between its covers.

She had spent the rest of the anniversary reading the letters, going through the entire correspondence (on her grandmother's side, at least). The researcher in her had come to life, urging her to take the letters home, spread them on her desk, make sure they were well preserved before studying every line, every word, every crease and ink stain on the lovely paper. The woman in her had been immersed in the tender words and gentle kindness that flowed from each page. Whenever Bella closed her eyes, she could imagine the yellowed paper and her grandmother's writing, elegant and sharp, filling it from one end to another.

If, when finding Edward Masen's letter, Bella had given the matter very little thought; her grandmother's half of the correspondence painted an entirely new picture of her. From the dates on the letters, she could tell that Helen had corresponded with this Edward for a good ten years, starting from 1917 to 1927 when the book was published. Her first letters were tattered and stained – letters that she had sent to him while he was fighting in Europe. Although some of them were so worn that Bella could hardly make out the writing, she could tell that they were well taken care of, well loved. She could imagine this Edward, getting the letters with one, two, maybe three months delay, reading them fervently and then folding them up somewhere safe, close to his heart. She imagined him reclining in the night, looking around cautiously and then pulling them out – his one indulgence in this horrible war. She could see him unfolding the paper carefully, holding it at the corners so that his hands wouldn't leave prints on it, and smiling reverently as his eyes traced the lines of this familiar handwriting.

How these letters had remained preserved, Bella could not tell. But they were obviously well loved and well taken care of. She followed her grandmother through this difficult correspondence, learning how Edward shared with her the idea to publish a memoir of his time on the Front and how Helen had encouraged him to do so. How his parents had died from the Spanish Influenza and he had lost his will to live. How he put all his efforts into work, instead, and slowly gained recognition.

Helen's letters created a picture of a woman not unlike the one Bella had received courtesy to her grandma Marie. Prim, proper, very smart, very strict, but also affectionate and patient. Bella wished she had more than one example of Edward Masen's correspondence, if only to know how he had reacted. In some letters, Helen's tone had been extremely polite and cold, indicating that she was trying to be patient with him. In others, she was cheerful and light-hearted, describing little things about the life in Forks and the walks in the woods she had enjoyed "…with Ezra".

However, her letters made no mention of feelings. The timetable indicated that the correspondence had commenced a little before Helen's marriage to Ezra Swan, a minister for the local church in Forks, but the tone of the letters was always friendly, kind, and not suggesting any sort of inappropriate behavior on either part. If Edward Masen had been in love with Helen, his letters were probably the only witnesses, as Bella's grandmother never outright quoted his words. She spoke of her husband and son with affection, but she almost never discussed them with Edward. There was only one short letter, one that was probably written in response to something truly offensive that indicated Helen's thoughts on the matter.

_Dear Sir,_

_Once more, I find myself struggling to express these sentiments that, so long ago, I struggled to conceal and bury. I can only hope that you will understand them._

_Upon receiving your letter, I did not expect that it would contain a renewal of those plans that are deemed by failure, both by society and the law. It is clear that there will be no peace, no closure, until I have made a clear statement of my positions on the matter, and I am left with no choice but to concede and ask you to destroy this letter after reading it._

_Our interaction is one of friends - friends that have known each other for much too long to be considered, or consider themselves, as casual acquaintances. There IS danger in our continued conversation, one that cannot be avoided if our letters are discovered. I have come to accept this fate, and I am ready to face the consequences should the need arise. But you do not. In a relationship such as ours, even if the two participants are separated by thousands of miles, there will most certainly be a backlash, and it is more convenient that a married woman takes the bigger part of the blame than a young, single man of good family. That is how our society is founded. That is how the world is founded. _

_My life with Ezra is a happy one. A beautiful existence of two equals, one that is filled with contentment and understanding. Although the life in Forks, Washington, lacks the excitement and beauty of Chicago, I find myself loving it nevertheless – I like the rain because it allows me to appreciate the rare sunny days all the more, and the silences because they help me find peace with myself. My occupations leave me with a sense of completion and joy, one that I would not be able to acquire otherwise. I know I want this and I know you would as well. _

_Yours sincerely,_

_Helen Swan_

Bella wasn't sure what she would do with the letters, but she couldn't have left them, not after having read them. How could she, knowing they existed? Their words had left the page and burned her, compelling her to look into this.

* * *

She reached her home in Seattle around 2 PM and hit the klaxon to get Rosalie and Alice to come out.

"Jesus fucking Christ, Bella, chill!" Rosalie screamed as she bolted out of the door with Alice hot on her heels. Although it was hardly a warm afternoon, both girls were in tank tops and shorts, which greatly amused to boys from the garage next door. Bella colored as she helped them unload the boxes – she was suddenly way overdressed in her blue jeans and white dress shirt, and at the same time, the men's scrutiny made her feel completely naked.

Men, men, men. Some other woman would have called Rosalie and Alice obsessed with men, or accused them of using their sexual appeal to feel powerful, but not Bella. No, Bella was only mildly annoyed that she was too self-conscious of her own body to wear such revealing clothes in public.

Or have their confidence with men.

She was, nevertheless, happy to be back at her home. If Forks was a lovely little town, she didn't enjoy going back to it for anything more than nostalgia's sake. Now the city was something she could enjoy. And not just Seattle – Phoenix, New York, San Francisco – whenever there was a big city, she could strive in it. Those megalopolises that hid all sorts of freaks and broken souls into their bosoms were the places where she flourished, where she let go of her strangeness and guilt and just lived.

Her friends were another reason why she loved to be home. Somehow, sitting with them and talking over the day's events over a glass of red made all the bad memories seem faded and distant. Even when she told them about Leah's prank, she didn't feel the sting as badly.

She'd been friends with Rosalie for longer. They'd been roommates during Bella's freshman and Rose's last undergrad year of college, and though the former was still relatively new to this city life, the latter already knew that you couldn't find a good roommate just anywhere, so they'd moved in together on the next year. One year was enough for Bella to discover that the walls in the dorms were thin like paper, that the parties never ended, and that communal showers were not a place she wanted to visit again.

Alice was a fairly recent addition to their group. She'd started her undergrad at the same time as Bella entered her first year into doctorate and Rosalie was starting to work. Unlike either of them, Alice knew exactly what she wanted and she wanted an apartment, not a dorm room. So it was through their living expectations that the three of them met, but they bonded through the hardships of their lives and dating experience.

At present, they were all single, although of the three, only Rose could get away with the 'busy-with-work' excuse. Since she had gotten a Masters in biochemistry, she had started working at a pharmaceutical company. Bella, on the other hand, was still in her first year as an assistant professor, and had some free time, and Alice was too busy dreaming about her thesis advisor to think about anyone else.

Bella waited until everything was put away and all the stories – told, before she told Rose and Alice about the letters. Somehow, she thought that piece of news deserved the proper setting. A comfortable atmosphere, so to speak. It just so happened that by the time they were done getting angry at Leah, the Forks gossips (Bella), uncooperative colleagues (Rose) and infatuating thesis advisors (Alice) four o'clock had passed, the insufferable heat had turned into a gentle breeze and the windows were halfway closed so that the room wouldn't get chilly. Twilight, the saddest time of day, was approaching. Could it have gotten any more perfect?

By the time she was done telling the story, both Rose and Alice were sitting on the edges of their seats, leaning in like they were about to pounce. After a long silence, Alice asked:

"So what happened in the end?"

Bella fanned the last few letters on the coffee table. "The letters are like those between friends. Very rarely is it spoken about feelings. There is only one letter from him, probably the one accompanying her letters. Now, the correspondence was obviously carried out during my grandmother's marriage with Ezra Swan, so se didn't stop things because of that. Now, the second to last letter is perfectly normal. And then, out of the sudden, she cuts things off." Bella held out her grandmother's last letter "She congratulates him on his engagement and says that it is time to stop writing. He accepts seemingly without struggle, but his second-to-last letter must have contained something very… interesting for her to react like this. Or… I don't know." Bella ran a hand through her hair.

"But why would she want him to end it?" Rose asked "You said it yourself; all they did was correspond via letters. Your grandfather didn't even mind."

"He might not have minded, but perhaps Edward's future wife would have." She said "The letters are perfectly innocent, but back in the day, their very existence was probably scandalous. Also, if they managed to correspond for nearly a decade without him getting bothered to marry, he was probably younger than Helen. At the time, an older, married woman had no business talking to a young bachelor, no matter on what topic."

Rose leaned in:

"Can I have a look?"

Bella picked one of the letters up reverently. Rose carried it to her working desk, turned the lamp on and studied it from underneath a magnifying glass. After a long examination, she said:

"Well, it certainly looks real." Rose looked up briefly "I don't suppose that anyone would have a reason to counterfeit letters between your grandmother and some man from a hundred years ago."

"Not really. I never heard of Edward Masen." She said, and then added "As a writer, that is. I haven't had the time to look him up, but I don't think he's that famous."

"No, I don't think he is." Rose said, before turning the lamp off. "Do you want me to take a better look? Make a chemical examination? I won't damage the letters, but I can verify their authenticity."

Bella blinked. "Well, I haven't really thought… I mean, I don't know if I'll ever need verification." Both her friends looked at her as if she'd grown a second head.

"Oh, come on!" Alice exclaimed "You've been a zombie this whole year, Bella! I haven't seen you so talk so much in ages! Those letters brought you to life!"

"Alice, I think that is a little over…" she began

"I'm not having you return to zombie mode." Alice chastised "You obviously want to know what happened with them!"

Bella hesitated. She had questions, yes. What had happened with his letters? Her grandmother had probably wanted that each of them to dispose of their own letters. Helen probably meant to burn them, but kept them anyway. Had Edward kept his? What had become of them? Bella wondered if his documents were kept away. If his family would allow her to see them. Her mind ran away with her and she shook her head:

"Alice, there are things I need to do first. And besides…"

"No." her friend said obstinately "Summer is coming. You can do anything you want. For crying out loud, Bella, have you looked at yourself in the mirror? You've lost so much weight this last year we were getting worried about you! Hell, if he lived in Timbuktu, Rose and I would just get you a plane ticked at advice you to drink as many fruity drinks as possible."

"Actually, the book was printed in Chicago, I doubt he moved away." I stated calmly.

"Well, that's perfect. You have two whole months to prepare, get in touch with the relatives, ask questions, and gain permission to take a look at his documents, if they keep them somewhere. It'll be perfect. You wouldn't even have to worry about travel costs."

"I agree." Rose said "It looks like a good opportunity for you to go back to you usual self. Imagine how interesting it would be."

Bella looked between them, and then back at the letters. She could swear they stared back.

She never met Grandmother Helen, but she could imagine her now – a prim and proper lady, dressed plainly, but with style, with her hair pulled back into a tight bun. She imagined her looking down and saying: "You didn't find these letters for nothing, Isabella."

Yes, she thought, I will search for them. Find out what happened. If not for myself, then for them.

It was the beginning of a new adventure.

_

* * *

_

A/N-See you in a couple of weeks. I'm brouillions on lj.


	4. Chapter Four

_**Big thanks to Courtney for all her hard work. Hope the hotmail doesn't give you more trouble, hon.

* * *

**_

Chapter Four

"Edward Masen?" Ben Cheney from the law department looked up from his writing to study Bella "Why would you need information on that guy?"

Ten years had been enough for her to get rid of her pesky habit of blushing. However, her hands started to sweat and she wiped them on her jeans nervously. "I was doing some research for a term paper and came across something he'd written. It piqued my interest and I decided that since I am going to Chicago in July, I might as well do some reading on the subject. It's an interesting view about the war and I wanted to do some research about the different experience from it for a paper."

Ben looked like he'd lost her, but nodded. "Why do you need me to do the research anyway? Can't you contact the American Literature divisions at the University of Chicago or Northwestern or wherever his papers are kept?"

"I tried, but his documents are still owned by his family. I tried looking for myself, but I can't seem to get around the records, and I wondered if you could check the legal dealings for me. Just so that I wouldn't have to resort to door-to-door calling." She explained.

"I don't know, Bella." He looked hesitant, so she decided that it was high time she brought out the big guns.

"It's ok then." She gave a mild smile "I suppose I should have gone with the lead Victoria gave me and tell Angela that there is no point."

"Angela?" Ben immediately perked up "She suggested Masen to you?"

"Well, yeah, sort of." Bella gave a nonchalant shrug "It was interesting, but don't worry, I know that the internship is hard enough without your college mates asking favors now and then." She went on, but on the inside, she counted the seconds until the wheels in his head started turning. She rose to leave, but he suddenly shot up.

"Wait…" he began "I can have a look. I'm… I'm sure there will be some free time, and it's not so difficult. If not… I can tell you how far I've gotten." He gave her a smile.

"Thanks Ben." Bella beamed and gave him a brief hug "I owe you." He blushed and looked down bashfully, and Bella resisted the urge to ruffle his hair. He reminded her of a little boy – sweet and sensitive, always eager to please.

Ben was one of the few people from Forks she met on a regular basis. Of course, when they'd first met, he was ten and she was fifteen, hired by his parents to be his babysitter. That they'd remained good friends for more than thirteen years was a feat not many people could boast on, but Bella and Ben could. That was why she didn't feel particularly guilty about using his crush on her colleague Angela Webber as leverage to get what she wanted – she knew Ben well enough to know that he deserved her, and that Angela would be very happy to hear that he'd helped in the research.

A month had passed since Bella made her discovery, a month that was spent mostly in preparing for finals, grading exams, etc. She didn't have much time to research, just to read the letters again and again and form a sort of understanding. She also asked Angela, who had majored in American Literature, to tell her about Edward Masen. The results were… interesting.

Born in 1898 to Robert William Masen and Beatrice Masen. Good education. Left to fight in World War One in France. When he came back, the shock from the fights combined with the deaths of his parents, caused by the Spanish Influenza, led him to a brief period of depression and post-traumatic stress. According to Angela, his "Memories of the Great War" was considered to be the piece of work that not only led him out of the depression, but also one of the most accurate descriptions of the psychological aspects of the war. Married in 1927 to Elizabeth Roberts. His son, William Masen, was born in 1930. William married Julia Taylor in 1954 and their daughter, Esme, was born in 1956. Edward Masen continued to write, but the "Memories" remained his best work. He died in 1967.

The information wasn't enough for Bella to know what kind of person Edward Masen was, but it gave her some ideas nevertheless. He was no Steinbeck, but he was fairly popular amongst some scholars. There were some, like Professor Sulpicia Volturi from the University of Chicago and Dr. Tanya Denali from Northwestern that did research on him. Bella considered turning towards them for information, but Professor Volturi had retired for many years and Dr. Denali's papers on Masen seemed shallow and rather orientated towards his views on women and women rights in his books. The latter was enough to turn Bella off Dr. Denali immediately – she'd experienced her fair share of women's lib years, talked to the people over at Women's Studies and had her debates on whether or not women were repressed. She generally agreed with them, that women needed to be given the benefit of the doubt more often, but most of the activists she'd met were a tad too aggressive and radical in their ideas, and that didn't sit well with her.

The discoveries also fueled gave her a better idea about the possible impact those letters between Edward Masen and Helen Swan would have. They wouldn't cause a catastrophic change in Masen scholarship, but they would definitely throw a wrench in the idea that the "Memories" were what brought him out of the depression.

Bella was surprised that her research made no mention of his papers and correspondence, so she guessed that it was still held by his family. If that were the case, she knew that she would probably have to talk to someone, probably even this Esme, Edward's granddaughter, in order to have a look at those letters.

To that point, only Rose and Alice knew about the letters. Bella had told Angela that she was curious about Edward Masen and had given Ben the excuse about the paper (a paper she had started to write, of course, to the great delight of Victoria Aims, her dissertation advisor, whose guilty pleasure happened to be History books). The secrecy seemed silly, of course, but Bella found herself doing it anyway, as if she were continuing the tradition set by her Grandmother and Edward. She wanted to know their stories before she decided if it deserved to be made public.

However, there were people she had to share this with, namely, Edward's relatives. That was why she asked Ben to look into who was the legal owner of Edward Masen's papers. William Masen had died in 1984, but Esme Masen had had a son, Edward, with Carlisle Cullen in 1980. She didn't know the complicated workings of each family in America and she wasn't about to go off asking one by one, afraid to stir trouble.

* * *

Between her frantic work at the university and her research, Bella barely had time to plan her trip to Chicago. She and Alice were supposed to travel on Wednesday, the 14th of July, spend a week for the conference, and then fly back. She wanted to arrange things so that she could have the time to research Edward Masen and still go to her meetings, but she wasn't sure if it was even possible. Time ticked by and she needed to arrange meetings, talk to people, secure lodgings. The latter wasn't such a big problem. She knew she could always count on Jasper.

"So how's Jazz?" Rosalie asked one evening when she and Bella were waiting for Alice to come back from her meeting with Dr. Venison, her thesis advisor. Both knew that it was a crucial time for Alice, the finishing touches to her Masters thesis, and that her part in the doctorate program in September depended on its outcome. Given Alice's crush on Venison, both were a little worried that she might screw things over.

"What?" Bella asked absent-mindedly, as her eyes skimmed a test she was supposed to be grading.

"Jasper. You know; the guy you're supposed to be staying with when you're in Chicago." Rose gave her a pointed look "How's he doing?"

"You know, you can always come with us and find out." Bella suggested, but Rose snorted.

"I want beaches and palm trees, not Windy City, but you know you two can come with me to Florida."

"I think we both know that we'll spoil your fun." Every year, Rose spent one week of her vacation enjoying pleasant company and unspoiled fun. Since Alice was too dedicated to her new imaginary love and Bella couldn't exhaust herself for long, these last few years had been for solo trips. "As for Jasper, he's fine."

"Just fine?" Bella raised an eyebrow "Don't give me that look. The last time you saw him was at his moms' marriage three years ago. You've only communicated through e-mail with him. Not to question the bond of your friendship, but are you sure he's totally ok with you two crashing in on his apartment for a whole week."

"Sure." Bella said. "Jasper and I are great friends. The Ph.D.s took their toll on us, and you know I can't afford a plane ticket on a whim."

"Exactly. To most guys a relationship isn't a relationship if they don't have immediate contact with you."

"This is not a relationship."

"Friendship, then."

"Jasper and I are not like that."

It was true. Jasper and Bella weren't like those couples that had been together once and remained friends. In fact, their situation was such that them being together as a couple felt like siblings getting together.

During the first year after her parents' divorce, Bella lived with her mother in Seattle. At that time, Renee's flightiness was the worst, causing her to jump from one relationship to another. Much later, Bella discovered that this had just been her mother's way to deal with her insecurities. Around that time, Renee decided to try her hand at homosexual relationships. For a while, she and her lover Jenna frequented different bars, or invited friends over. Among these friends were Barbara and Olivia, two women who had been together recently, one of which had adopted a little boy on the same age as Bella.

Though Renee's relationship with Jenna was short lived, the friendship that formed between Jasper and Bella lasted, even when her father, shocked at his ex-wife's antics, had Bella shipped over to Forks, where she spent the better part of her life. She and Jasper continued to talk and managed to get together every once in a while, even when Renee moved to Arizona.

To that day, Jasper and Bella weren't sure what got them together as friends, but they worked together very well. Jasper was calm and collected, helping Bella out whenever she had tantrums. In the year after the accident, he'd been practically godsend, helping her through the torture of recovery. On the other hand, Jasper's empathy often led people to use him, using him as an earpiece whenever they needed to unload, and he couldn't stop them. Bella had never made him feel like that, which, as he once confessed to her, was more than he could ask for.

In fact, it was Jasper who convinced Bella in the early months after the accident to let go of the guilt. Jake's death had not been anyone's fault but his own – nobody held a gun to his head, forcing him to abuse with dangerous substances like his friends, and nobody had forced him to drive like a maniac while he was high. In fact, if Jake had ever really loved her, a notion Jasper had scoffed at, he would have known that doing drugs wasn't going to make him look awesome in her eyes, and he sure as hell wouldn't have put her life in danger.

So naturally, Bella wasn't worried about Jasper's hospitality. She knew that if there was a person that would open his home to her and the insanity that was Alice, it would be him. She was worried about other things, particularly if she was ever going to speak to Edward Masen's relatives about his papers.

Just then, she got a phone call from Ben, telling her that while the legal owner was still Ms. Esme Cullen, the letters were under the management of her son, Edward Cullen. Bella thanked Ben for his help, and then dialed Angela.

"Hi, Bella." She picked up on the second ring.

"Hi, Ang. I hope I'm not catching you at a bad time?" Bella asked, giving Rose a wink

"No, not at all. I'm just grading exams, that's all."

"I just wanted to thank you again for the help about Edward Masen. Professor Aims just creamed herself at the sight of the paper and Masen's appearance was more than welcome."

"I'm glad to have helped. Did you have much trouble with finding his papers?"

"Yeah, but I got Ben Cheney to help me out on that." There was a distinct clatter in the background and Angela cursed quietly, before asking.

"Ben Cheney? From the law department?"

"Yeah. He was really helpful, too, even though he's so busy with his internship. He just called me from the library to let me know what he found out."

"Oh…" Angela murmured quietly "So, err… what was he doing at the library?"

"Looking for something one of the partners at the firm wanted. Said it might take a while." Bella tsked sympathetically at the workload of interns "It's a pity nobody's in the neighborhood, I could've asked them to help him out."

"Oh… well… I can drop by. I need this book for reference anyway. Do you think he'd mind if I came over to help?"

"Ang, would you? You are godsend!" Bella smiled. Her friend stammered embarrassedly, said goodbye and hung up. Bella turned to Rosalie with a triumphant smile.

"Playing matchmaker again, Bella?" Alice, who had just walked through the door, asked.

"It's not matchmaking if the two parties involved don't need much encouraging." Bella stated as she closed the phone, before eyeing the contact information Ben had given her on Edward Cullen.

* * *

She wondered what the best approach would be in this situation, and decided that perhaps an email would be the best way to deal with this. She excused herself for thirty minutes or so to compose her message in a way that conveyed her interest without giving everything away, and still sounded polite enough. She was congratulating herself on a job well done when her phone rang, announcing her mother.

Oh, joy.

Knowing there was no way around it, Bella picked up: "Hello, mom."

"Hi, sweetie." Renee Dawyers chirped on the other side of the line. "How's Seattle?"

"Fine. How's Jacksonville?"

"Oh, it's perfect, honey. You should see it. It's so sunny and there is so much color. Phil took me to that lovely Italian restaurant yesterday, and we had…" like many other times, Bella tuned her mother out, answering monosyllabically whenever she had to contribute to the conversation. She didn't do it because she wasn't particularly interested in what her mother had to say, not really. But with Renee, these attempts at mother/daughter bonding were just interludes to the topic at hand, and, for many years now, the topic at hand was usually money.

"So, Phil's birthday is coming up and I decided to do something really special for him." Renee began, and Bella rolled her eyes instinctively. Yes, because being thirty required something _really_ special. "I decided to take him to L.A. I was wondering if you were willing to help me out in that."

"Why Los Angeles?" Bella asked, mentally calculating the possible sum her mother would ask of her. "Didn't you say you wanted to go to New Orleans the other day?"

"Oh, yes, yes, of course, but it isn't the same as L.A. Phil always said he wanted to visit Rodeo Drive and Beverley Hills and all these lovely places, and I agree with him. Plus, it'll be very special, very romantic. I need three thousand."

"Three… mom, there is no way I can afford that!" she didn't intend to sound so rash, but there – it came out anyway.

"Honey, I did my math and it was the cheapest solution to it." Renee said "We'll have to stay in some dingy motel and the travel seats will be only third class, and it's still expensive. You know how those travel agencies are when you book in the last minute, and I'm a little short on cash right now." Yeah, since her father wasn't paying an alimony. "Please, Bella. You love Phil. You'd like him to have fun on his birthday, don't you?"

"Of course I do, mom, but my pay isn't astronomical. Go someplace you can afford, or…"

"So you won't help me?"

"Mom, please, I'm trying to explain…"

"Oh, I see perfectly what you're trying to explain. You've already booked yourself some classy excursion and now you don't have enough money to help me out."

"Do you want me to send you my latest credit card draft? You know I've barely started working, where do you expect me to find the money?"

"Well, your father had an insurance, didn't he?"

Bella clenched her teeth and willed herself to relax. It was just Renee. No matter how selfish and spoiled she was, in the end of the day, she was her mother and she loved her.

"I can only give you five hundred, mom."

"Five hundred? Bella, that doesn't even begin to cover it."

"Five hundred. Take him to the beach, or that Italian restaurant." Bella said and added, in a softer tone "Goodbye, mom."

Upon hanging up, she covered her face with her hands and muffled a heartfelt scream of frustration. Her mother was her mother and Bella was supposed to love her… but she hated it, absolutely hated it, when she had to remind herself that.

* * *

When she came back down, she found Alice and Rose in deep discussion about vacation clothes.

"There she is, finally." Alice commented "Rose, you've gotta convince her to come shopping with us."

"Absolutely not." Bella cut them both off before Rose even opened her mouth.

"But Bella! You have to! We're going to Chicago!"

"I don't see how the two are connected."

"Bella, Chicago in the summer is very different than Seattle in the summer. You need new clothes for the sunshine and heat…"

"Not to mention the infamous winds." Bella said dryly "Alice, I don't need a whole shopping trip for a week long visit."

"But there wouldn't but just boring lectures – we'll have tons of free time on our hands." Which she would probably spend with more shopping, Bella thought "And didn't your friend Jamie…"

"Jasper."

"Didn't your friend Jasper promise to take us out a little? Show us the sights? Give us a tour of the bars?"

"What happened to your love for James?" Rose asked, amusement lacing with her usually calm demeanor. Alice brushed her off easily.

"My relationship with Dr. Venison is completely platonic up to this point. He cannot see me as anything more than a graduate student. Our romance must wait until I am his intellectual equal, if not more. Anyway…" she changed the subject as if she were brushing an annoying bug off "…even if you refuse to wear anything but jeans and T-shirts at the bars, we still need to get you a couple of new suits. You can't look like a street urchin there!"

"I agree." Rose said "I understand the economy, Bella, but these pants are two years old already." She nodded towards her friend's attire "And that was the last time you went off to buy new clothes. I know you've been trying to be practical, Bella, but Jasper will think you've been living off canned tuna these last ten years. Loosen up a little."

Well, there was some point in that statement, Bella admitted grudgingly. She hadn't spent money on herself in years, mostly because she hadn't felt the need to. The only times she needed to look professional were the meetings with her thesis advisor, and those weren't so many that she would need a new suit for each and every one of them.

She considered her options. Jasper wouldn't care what she wore, but he'd definitely notice if her clothes fell apart in the washing machine. And it wouldn't kill her to buy a new dress either.

That was how Bella found herself lagging behind Alice and Rose as they stormed the mall on the next day, but not before extracting a promise from both of them that there would be no playing Bella Barbie while they were shopping.

They were browsing the racks at Gap when Bella's phone rang, announcing an unknown number. Knowing that it was probably work-related, she quickly left the shop and went to a nearby water fountain, before answering.

"Dr. Swan speaking."

"Good day." The voice on the other end was clipped and cold, very civil, and straight to the point. "This is Edward Cullen. You contacted me in relation to some papers of Edward Masen's?"

"Yes." Bella said, happy that she would get such a quick response. She glanced at her watch. "Thank you for calling me so quickly…"

"Yes, I'm sure that you are eager to go through a person's private life." The voice continued, making her thoughts stop dead in their tracks. Come again? "Tell me, _Dr._ Swan, why is it exactly that you need my great-grandfather's correspondence for?" He sneered out her title as if he doubted its legitimacy.

Bella was stunned. Never in her life had she heard anyone speak to her with such condescension and insult. She rummaged her head for answers. "I…"

"In fact, why would you even bother? I believe I made myself clear last time the department of American Literature asked to buy something from me. Edward Masen's correspondence is not meant to be seen, probed and dissected by some selfish vulture that wants nothing more than to fuel their own selfish ideas with his misinterpreted words."

"Excuse me! I haven't even said why I made that enquiry…" Bella began, shocked to find herself losing control so quickly.

"Allow me to make a guess, won't you? You're writing a book and Edward Masen's name came up. The studies on his works weren't good enough and you need to check out his personal things in order to find the proof you need to support your ideas and make your book into a bestseller. Well, Dr. Swan, I hate to disappoint you, but that correspondence is off limits. I would advice you to stop trying to exploit people's personal thoughts because it's not worth it."

"I…"

"Have a nice day." The phone clicked shut, announcing the end of the conversation, and leaving Bella looking ahead of herself, completely flummoxed.

_

* * *

_

**A/N - Comments are, of course, always appreciated. **

**I was curious - how many of you have an lj account? I just started a community called "Readers United", which is supposed to be a place where everyone can write short reviews on books/fics/manga they have liked (or hated). Would you like to join? I've only started it up, but I'm hoping that at least some of you would be interested. We can be found on http:/ community(dot) livejournal (dot)com/readers_united/**


	5. Chapter Five

_**Kudos to Courtney for betaing this chapter. You're awesome, honey, don't you ever forget that!

* * *

**_

Chapter Five

Bella stood in front of the fountain, phone in hand and eyes trained on the small ripples of the water. The day was sunny and bright. Around her, people moved easily, talked and laughing. A child squealed in the distance. An announcement was made over the speakers; somebody had lost a cat.

She was staring ahead of herself, her brain trying to catch up on the conversation that had just transpired. Or, rather, the angry monologue that had been directed towards her. One look at her watch told her that a little less than two minutes had passed, and yet it felt like an eternity. Her mouth was dry and there was a distinct feeling in her stomach, very much like the fluttering of thousands of little butterflies. Her breathing sped up and her hands itched to hit something.

Knowing that Rose and Alice would be looking for her, she turned on her heel and walked back into the store. But her expression must have given her away, because the first thing they said was: "What the hell happened to you?"

"Nothing." She said as she examined a shirt, before she promptly tore it off the rack and went into the dressing room. She needed to think.

The rest of the shopping trip passed in a similar manner. The girls, sensing her bad mood, had not made many attempts at conversation, but while Rosalie just left her alone, Alice used the opportunity to get Bella to try on different things. They ended up buying more than they expected, but at the time, it couldn't have bothered Bella less.

She was used to rejection – it was unavoidable, really. But never in her adult life had she ever been spoken to in such a manner – it was harsh, rude, and completely uncalled for.

Insufferable.

Never, outside of Jane Austen and Charlotte Bronte's works, had Bella encountered a situation where this word could have been appropriately used, until that day. The more she thought about it, the angrier she became. No man in polite society would have ever addressed a woman in such a disrespectful manner, nor would he have hanged up on her without even letting her speak two words.

Who the hell does he think he is? She thought.

The irony that she was more pissed about his manner of addressing her rather than his actual words wasn't lost to her. But really, she hadn't worked so hard for nearly a decade to be treated like a dog that had just peed on the carpet. Not without being given a chance to defend herself.

* * *

So as soon as she went home, she sat behind her computer to write an email.

_Dear Mr. Douche…_

Bella closed her eyes, took a deep breath and erased that line.

_Dear Mr. Cullen,_

She thought about it for a while, and then erased the "Dear".

_During our last conversation, you demanded my reasons behind my enquiry. I feel that I am entitled to explain them to you, since I was not able to do so earlier. _

_I have discovered some letters of an old family relative that seem to have been written in the period 1917-1927, and were addressed to a Mr. Edward Masen. I have also come across a letter, signed by the said Mr. Masen, and a first edition of his "Memories of the Great War". I have reasons to believe that there was a correspondence carried out and that there might exist letters written by Mr. Masen. Because I was directed to you as the legal holder of the letters, I made my request to you. _

_I disclose scans of both the first page of the "Memories of the Great War" and the letter, written by Edward Masen, to confirm my claim. _

_Thank you for your time,_

_Dr. Swan_

There, Bella decided with a satisfied smile, that was good. She quickly attached the two documents and sent the mail before she chickened out of it. The tone was polite enough, but there was just enough of Grandmother Helen's iciness creeping in it to keep it from seeming too cordial. Although that this meant that any hopes of her researching Edward Masen had probably failed, she felt pretty good about the fact that she had gotten her say in this conversation.

* * *

"So I cleared the house out today…" Jasper's voice was cheerful in spite of the fatigue creeping into it. "You and your friend will be settled in well, Bella."

"I'm glad to hear that." She said as she dug her suitcase from underneath the bed and wiped it with a wet cloth to get rid of the dust bunnies "With you, I bet the place looked like a lion's den."

"Hardly." Jasper laughed and shifted the phone on his other shoulder "I spent the better part of the time thinking of ways to keep you and Amanda occupied."

"Her name is Alice, Jasper, and you shouldn't worry – she'll find plenty to do in Chicago even without your help. Just point her the way to the nearest shopping mall and she'll be out of your hair for the whole week."

Two weeks had passed.

Bella and Alice's trip was just around the corner and the former was almost giddy with excitement. In spite of the total failure of her scheme to investigate Edward Masen, Jasper had managed to rouse her interest with descriptions of Chicago's sites, museums, stuffed crust pizza… She almost wanted to teleport there and start sightseeing immediately.

After she extracted a promise from Jasper to pick them up at the airport, Bella hung up and set to the tiresome task of choosing her outfits. She was in the middle of debating between suits when Alice charged in her room, her face beat red and her hand clutching an envelope.

"Bella! It's a letter!"

"I can see that." She stated as she watched her friend bounce excitedly.

"No! It's a letter! From… from Edward Cullen!" Alice panted.

The announcement had Bella's face falter immediately and she felt her expression of surprise turn into one of distaste. She had successfully avoided thinking of Edward Cullen and his rotten attitude after she sent him that email. Upon receiving no response, or any acknowledgement of her correctness, she had just assumed that he was either too pompous to accept the truth, or too ashamed to say anything.

"Well?" Alice asked, thrusting the envelope in her face "Aren't you going to open it?"

"And here I was actually in a good mood." Bella sighed as she picked it up and turned it in her hands. It seemed innocent enough, with her address written in an elegant script. The weight of it surprised her, but she guessed that if he was just sending her an insulting note, he probably wouldn't have wasted money on post stamps.

Inside the envelope, there were several of sheets of paper. One of them turned out to be a copy of a certificate of authenticity for letters by Edward Masen, which were written in the period 1917-1927. There was also a map of the Chicago area with what looked like instructions attached to it, and a sheet of paper that was written in that same elegant script that graced the envelope. Bella unfolded it and started to read:

_Dear Dr. Swan,_

_Thank you for your patience and your letter, which have both been very enlightening. Allow me to begin by apologizing for our last conversation. My behavior to you was extremely rude and uncalled for, and I beg your forgiveness for it. My reasons for acting the way I did do not do me justice, but I hope I can explain myself to you and offer my apologies in person._

_In regards to your enquiry, all of the letters Edward Masen has ever written in his life are in my possession and there are some which match your description and the timetable. I have had their authenticity verified and I disclose a copy of the certificate. _

_Unfortunately, I will be out of town until the 20__th__ of July, and it would not be possible for me to show you the letters until the 21__st__. If this is convenient to you, would you care to come over to the old family home and see the papers on this day? _

_Yours sincerely,_

_Edward Cullen_

If Bella suspected that the letter might contain an apology of some sorts, as it ought to have, she never expected it to be delivered like that. The tone of the letter was so completely different from the one of their conversation that she wondered if it hadn't been written by an entirely different person. Alice, who was peering over her shoulder at the paper, was staring wide-eyed and slack-jawed at the elegant script and flowing lines.

"What could this mean?" she asked in a whisper, as if she was too stunned to be her usual exuberant self.

"I guess that my mail put him in his place." Bella said, blinking rapidly "Though if his answer was any different, I would have been absolutely disgusted with him. I did nothing to insult him when I first wrote to him, and he replied in such a way… an apology was the least he could offer me. But it is surprising that he should offer to help me out of the research."

"It's rather presumptuous of him to send you directions to his house, though?" Alice chuckled "It seems to be pretty far from the city…"

Bella re-read the letter in stunned silence, before going to her computer to mail a response. They would have to settle on a time, but she was definitely going over. After clicking on 'Send', she stared at the screen, and let out a wide smile.

* * *

They left on the 14th as predicted after a tearful goodbye with Rosalie at the airport. She promised to call every day from her little retreat in Florida and even to come and visit if she got bored with the Flower state.

Alice and Bella traveled economy class with their colleagues Felix Brown and Laurent Killian. Both were lively company, especially Laurent. He and his wife Irina had been trying to get pregnant for some time and eight months ago on Christmas Eve, they had finally succeeded. Laurent was ecstatic, showing us pictures from the ultrasound and telling us stories about how the baby kicked him. It was a pleasant flight, filled with laughter and fun. Around the end of it, when everyone was sitting back in silence, waiting for the plane to land, Alice reached over and squeezed Bella's hand.

"Hey, Bella?" she asked "Before I forget to say that, I'm so glad you found those letters."

"I'm glad too, Alice, though you know I would've come to Chicago even if I hadn't."

"Yeah, but you would've still been in zombie mode. I was going to have so much trouble explaining to Jamie…"

"Jasper."

"…your appearance. He would've thought you had your brain lobotomized during the flight or something."

"His mother is a nurse, Alice; he knows there is no way to get a lobotomy on a plane."

"Whatever." She patted my hand "I'm just saying that these letters… this research… hell, even this Edward Cullen, have been all good for you." Bella frowned, thinking how getting mad at someone's bipolar behavior could be considered good, but Alice continued "You've come to life, Bella. You're showing emotions, you feel, you learn. There has always been passion in you, but now you're positively glowing. Whatever you've been doing, you mustn't stop."

Bella smiled and squeezed her friend's hand. She was right… things could only get better from now on.

* * *

When they picked up their luggage and passed through security, Laurent and Felix went directly to catch a cab to their hotel, while Bella scanned the lobby for Jasper. Usually, he was quite easy to find, with his 6'2" height and honey colored curls, but this time, he was quite difficult to spot.

"I wish you'd shown me a recent picture of him, Bella." Alice complained. "I don't think he's a short boy in a sailor costume anymore, and I'm usually better than you spotting people."

"Are you sure it's not your aching calves talking there, Booster Seat?" Bella asked, referring to the four inch heels Alice was wobbling around with.

"Maybe." She mumbled, put her large suitcase down and looked around, hands on her hips.

"It's a good thing then that Jasper is picking us up from the airport and not Dr. Venison." She said with a sly wink. Alice laughed.

"Definitely. You just cannot travel AND look gorgeous." She gestured towards herself, although Bella couldn't see why she was so displeased. Even sweaty and tired from a three hour flight, Alice Brandon looked like she just stepped off the catwalk, while Bella looked like something the dog dragged in.

Maybe it was the result of having two extremely hot roommates, residue guilt from the accident and a lifetime of trying to blend in with the background, but Bella didn't consider herself exceptionally pretty. Sure, there was a charm to her, but it was more like the 'dandelions are pretty' deal – something that had beauty in its simplicity, but didn't hold one's attention for long.

Alice was different – with her black, spiky hair and bright blue eyes, small build and fair skin, she was a picture from a fairytale come to life. Although unconventional, she was beautiful and she got away with all sorts of fashion experiments.

And Rosalie… if Bella had met her during high school, she probably would have hated Rosalie. Tall, blonde, with blue eyes and perfect features, she was the embodiment of the ideal of female beauty. A couple of millennia earlier she would have probably posed for a statue of Aphrodite. If she'd lived in the Renaissance, Leonardo would have used her as a model for Mary. And any contemporary artist would have killed to take a picture of her. In fact, if Bella hadn't been Rosalie's roommate, she would have probably fallen to the common delusion that her friend was all beauty and no brains. But no, pretty face or not, Rosalie Hale was smart, fascinating and exciting, capable of captivating men of all ages, interests and even sexual orientation.

Bella, on her part, found nothing special in her looks – brown hair and brown eyes, slightly freckled cheeks and an upturned nose; those weren't features you'd often see on the cover of Vogue. If anything, her fair skin and plump lips made her look young for her age, so young she had stopped letting her hair down from its tight bun and almost always wore glasses. It was hard being an assistant professor when you didn't look any older than your own students.

Lost in her musings, Bella failed to see the tall figure creeping up on her, up until the minute when two large hands clamped over her eyes and a voice whispered in a sweet southern drawl:

"Guess who, darlin'."

"Jazz!" Bella screeched happily, whirled around and latched onto his neck in an uncharacteristic display of affection. She heard his soft laugh as he picked her off the ground and twirled her around.

"Oof, Bella, you put on weight!" he exclaimed, setting her down and pulling back to get a good look at her. Bella gasped.

"Is this how you greet your friend after all this time?"

"It's a compliment when it comes to you, Bella, last time you sent me a picture you looked like a skeleton." He laughed. "So where's…"

"Alice." Both whirled around to look at the said woman, who was advancing like a woman on a mission. She stopped a couple of feet away from Jasper, set her large suitcase on the ground, and crossed her dainty hands in front of her chest while glaring at him "You've kept me waiting for a long time."

Jasper stared at her for a minute, before a lazy smile crept across his face and he tipped his baseball cap at her. "Sorry, ma'am. Traffic's been a murder."

Alice huffed and pouted. Jasper looked confused: "I promise not to do it again?" She looked at him, and then her face split into a wide smile.

"Nah, just kidding. Nice to meet you, Jasper. I'm Alice Brandon." She sang and put out her hand. Jasper stared at her for a beat, stunned, before taking the offered hand with a wide grin and kissing it.

"Ms. Brandon."

Alice's eyes widened and she sucked a breath.

Bella looked at the exchange with a look that was equal parts amusement and bewilderment. Finally, her two friends broke the staring contest they were having, and Jasper motioned them to follow him. He hoisted Bella's suitcase over his shoulder and pulled Alice's behind him as he led the way out the airport and into the sunny parking lot, where a large Hummer waited for them.

* * *

Jasper's apartment was in the nicer districts of the city, within a walking distance of the University of Chicago, where he now worked. It was a small place, looking pretty much like a den, with two rooms, a kitchen box and a bathroom. Nearly every wall was covered with books, shelves upon shelves of them, and a desk with a rickety old chair was perched under the only window in the living room. With the three of them and the girls' suitcases, the place looked almost crowded.

"So…" Jasper began as he quickly carried their things to the bedroom "This is where you two will sleep – I changed the sheets, and everything's been washed. Bathroom's on the right – no schedule there. If any of you need something to read, you're free to browse the shelves, but bear in mind that everything's in a specific order and you need to remember exactly where you took it from."

Alice and Bella gave the messy bookcases a once-over, trying to determine what kind of system did he use to organize them. Then their eyes settled to the large bed.

"Where will you sleep?" Alice asked, raising an eyebrow. Jasper wordlessly motioned to the couch in the living room. She frowned, taking in his wide shoulders and the narrow piece of furniture "Are you sure? We'd hate to kick you out of your own room."

"As much as it pains me that I won't be sharing my bed with two gorgeous women…" Jasper began with an impish grin "…I believe it'll be better for all of us if I let you ladies by yourselves."

"Of course you do, you blanket hog." Bella snorted as she opened her suitcase and brought out the parcels his moms had sent for him "Compliments from home."

* * *

An hour later, the three of them were sitting around the small table in the living room, sampling the many treats the girls had brought over.

"God, this is the life." Jasper groaned between two bites of apple pie.

"Still can't cook to save your life, huh?" Bella chuckled.

"Yes, and I am so glad to have you here for a week. You won't let me starve, will you, Bells?"

"Hey! I can cook too!" Alice exclaimed.

"If you call boiling water cooking." Bella snorted. Alice just stuck her tongue out to her.

"Relax, ladies, I'm sure you will both have your chance at my kitchen." Jasper laughed, before taking another bite of pie "Oh, man, this is great. I need to call mom and thank her for this, she's a life saver."

"It's amazing that your mom can take a break from the hospital to cook for you." Alice offered. Jasper looked up, surprised, and then shook his head with a laugh.

"No, not that mom. Olivia works at the hospital and her schedule is a nightmare. Barbara must've been the one to take some time to cook for her wayward son." He chuckled when he noticed Alice's expression "Didn't Bella tell you about me and my two moms?"

"No." Alice glared "She failed to mention that."

Jasper gave Bella a look, before turning to Alice and smiling: "Well, you can say I've been all over the country. My early childhood was… complicated, you could say, and I was put into foster care pretty early. I was adopted by my mom, Barbara, pretty early, and moved with her to Seattle, where she met with my other mom, Olivia. They've been living together for more than 23 years now, still happily in love." Jasper smiled happily "They're the best parents I could ever wish for. In fact, when the state of Washington started to perform civil unions for same-sex couples three years ago, my moms were the first in line to get hitched, so to speak."

"Wow." Alice managed "That was really brave of them… to face society's prejudices and go all the way."

"You know, you're probably one of the few people who think so. Some might argue that homosexuals rebel against the social norms anyway and that it's illogical that they would want to confirm to such traditionalist notions as marriage and child rising."

"Yeah, but that would be correct only based on the notion that marriage and child rising fall in the same category. Lately, people neglect procreating in order to advance in their careers – child bearing is left until the very last moment, and it's more of a social duty than anything else. Marriage too. People are forgetting that marriage, as well as child bearing, are two things that link two adults who are in love. Just because the said adults are in the same sex shouldn't change anything." Alice reasoned.

Jasper eyed her for a while, before letting a small smile spread on his face.

"I see why you're friends with Bella, darlin'." He said, before walking off to the kitchen to get them a glass of wine "It's not like I haven't had a lot of trouble growing up…" his voice floated over as he dug out the bottle and opened it "People have been opening up to the idea of homosexual relationships only as of late." He emerged from the kitchen again, handing both Bella and Alice a glass of Chardonnay, before he went back and fetched his own. "But they're both amazing parents and they've obviously done a good job with me."

"So if Olivia is a nurse, what does Barbara do?" Alice asked.

"She's a professor at U-Dub." Bella filled in for her "Department of linguistics."

"I'm a campus brat, through and through." Jasper laughed as he settled down.

"Did that help you with choosing your academic career?" Alice asked. Bella couldn't help but smile at her friend's curiosity. Alice was so much like a child.

"Yeah. My moms taught me that hard work and no screw-ups are the only ways towards success. They also advised me to come here for my studies instead of accepting a full scholarship at U-Dub."

Bella could practically see the wheels turning in Alice's head when her friend asked why would he do that. If Jasper hadn't chosen to come to Chicago, Bella decided, he and Alice would have already met and she wouldn't be harboring that silly crush on her thesis advisor, who, in comparison, looked almost dull.

"Well…" Jasper thought about it for a while "It was a difficult decision, no question. My family, my friends…" he nodded towards Bella "…my entire life, they were in Seattle. I know the city like the back of my hand and I've always felt secure in it. But the problem is that I needed to branch out, and the sooner I did that, the better. It's been a very… educational experience, not to mention that I haven't been raised to pick the easy way out."

"Really?" Alice asked, her eyes as wide as saucers.

"Well, yeah. That, and the fact that if I came to Chicago, nobody would give me any shit about getting in because of my mother."

"They can do that?"

"They can and they do." Bella said, suddenly interested in her glass of wine. Actually, when she had fist come to Seattle, she'd been accused by some of the girls on her floor of using connections to get in. At the time, she had barely recovered from the accident and it was still a sensitive topic, and she wasn't ready to tell everyone why she had suddenly wasted an entire year or why was her place saved when many tried to enroll. Luckily, none of her relatives were anything close to professors, so they let her off the hook, but Jasper wouldn't have heard the end of it.

Alice, who had been listening carefully all the time suddenly found herself completely lacking words. For a woman who usually had a say in everything, that was intolerable. But she couldn't find her voice, couldn't even begin to process what was going on – she could only feel. Mindlessly, she reached over and patted his hand compassionately, and then, as if startled by her own boldness, drew back and quickly started to sip her wine. Jasper gave her a curious look, but let it drop and followed her example.

Bella eyed the two, realized that something must have transpired, and decided that it was time to change the subject.

"Anyway, Jasper, remember that jerk I told you about? Edward Cullen?"

"Yeah? Did he come to his senses, Bells?" he looked up and grinned. Bella nodded, beaming, and fetched his letter from her bag.

"He wrote to apologize for his behavior and to invite me to check out Masen's correspondence." She said as she handed her friend the printed directions. Jasper gave them a once over, before letting out a low whistle.

"Damn, Bells, that's pretty far from the city." He looked up "Are you sure you're going to find it?"

Bella bit her lip and shrugged. "Do you mind if I borrow the Hummer?"

_

* * *

_

**A/N - I know somebody must be reading this story, but where are you?**


	6. Chapter Six

_**Wow, it's been a while! Missed me?**_

**_Of course, lots of love to Courtney for betaing this one. _**

_**

* * *

Chapter Six**_

The week passed quickly, as all good things do. Bella and Alice attended the conference, while visiting all of Chicago's hot and not-so-hot spots with Jasper in the meantime. He took them to Navy Pier and the Chicago Cultural Centre, Grant Park and the Magnificent Mile (to Alice's great delight), and followed them around without complaining once. They ate gyros and Italian Beefs, Chicago style pizza and hot dogs. On more than one occasion, Jasper commented on the fact how glad he was that both of them ate, because that meant he wouldn't have to feel guilty about ordering a large meal.

Throughout their exploits, Bella couldn't help but notice the sparks of interest that few back and forth between her two friends. Alice, for once, seemed more interested in living in the present than constantly, obsessively planning the future, while Jasper seemed content with being in their company. All week he didn't contact any of his other friends (or perhaps he didn't have any), choosing to spend time with the girls instead. Bella found it endearing.

Alice seemed to grow more nervous and melancholic as their last day drew near. Bella, in comparison, grew anxious and excited because of her meeting with Edward Cullen.

They had exchanged a few emails to decide on the hour of their meeting. Apparently, he lived in the family home, which was located a little far away from the city, and the drive would take a while. He'd offered to come and pick her up, but Bella had refused, deciding that a drive would do her good.

* * *

On the 21st, Bella got up bright and early, had coffee with Jasper and Alice, and packed… the schedule for the day went as follows:

9.00 – Pick up the suit from dry cleaning (she'd fallen down and messed it up on the first day)

9.15-9.45 – Drive over to the Cullen's family home (somewhere far away from Chicago, apparently. Jasper had to upload the coordinates in his Hummer's GPS)

9.45-13.00 – Talk with Edward Cullen (hopefully, without strangling him) and looking at Masen's letters.

14.00 – Meeting Jasper and Alice for lunch and heading for the airport

"Thanks again for this, Jazz, I know you don't enjoy the public transport much." Bella said as she went through the list, while Jasper put away the coffee cups.

"Oh, yes, I would much rather have my big, comfortable Jeep to maneuver through the traffic jams while you take some rickety bus to the middle of nowhere, but you know me, I'm a gentleman to the roots of my hair." He mocked "Besides, if I get Alice to walk all the way to Grant Park, she probably won't have the energy to drag me shopping again."

Bella hid a smile, as she got up and gave him a kiss on the cheek. "Don't hope for that." She warned, before heading out the door.

* * *

One hour later, her perfect day had taken a turn for the worst.

First of all, it was raining. Hard. What had looked like harmless white clouds in the sky when she mounted the Jeep had turned into a dark, heavy mass that seemed to rain down on her all at once. The road was blurry and Bella had to drive extremely slowly so that she didn't hit anything. Her hands gripped the steering wheel tightly and she constantly forced her already tired eyes on the road.

9.45 passed and she was still nowhere near the house. Her head and hands hurt and she wanted nothing more than to turn around and drive back to Chicago…if she found the road in that thick curtain of rain, of course. She kept checking with the GPS and the map, cursing under her breath constantly.

"A thirty minute drive, my ass." Bella mumbled. "I swear, I should've told that pretentious prick that he should drag his sorry ass to the city instead of making me go in the middle of bloody nowhere…"

She passed some sign and remembered the part of his instructions that warned her about a sharp turn on the right. Bella had to squint and slow the car to a near stop so that she would notice the path, and still she nearly missed it. The GPS wasn't much of a help either – the rain, the trees, or the remote location made it give her the directions way late, or forget them at all. At the moment, it was telling her that she couldn't be located, so Bella turned it off angrily.

However, she was thankful for the Hummer. Not only was Jasper's monster of a car sturdy and stable, it also kept her warm and dry while the storm of the century seemed to be raging outside. Not to mention that the last turn took her to a road that looked like an off-road race track – it was not asphalted, and the trees and shrubs were so overgrown they almost completely stopped the rain. Some errand branches hit the sides of the car. Bella grit her teeth and thought that if she didn't find this damn house soon, she would owe Jasper a new steering wheel. And a radio. Hell, why not a whole new car?

But then the trees suddenly gave way to space and the rain hit the car with new force. She briefly noticed lights ahead before she slammed on the breaks and turned windshield cleaners to a higher pace.

And there it was, in all its glory, a three-story Victorian, with a veranda and tower-like roof and everything. It was so gorgeous Bella had to take a moment to just look at it, before she killed the engine and reached back for her briefcase. She didn't even ask herself if it was the right house or she just messed the directions again – something told her that it was exactly the house she'd been looking for.

She didn't park close to the house, but she didn't expect the rain to be all that bad. She could see figures by the windows, moving towards the door, so her hosts must've seen her coming. Bella checked the briefcase one last time to make sure the letters were undisturbed and safe, before opening the car's door and making a run for it.

What a mistake! As soon as her feet hit the ground, she realized that the gravel was also not asphalted, and that it was very, very muddy. The rain fell down on her hard, making her attempt to cover herself with her jacket useless by soaking her to the bone immediately.

And if that wasn't bad enough, as she was trying to get quickly to the dry haven of the veranda, she decided to pull a Bella, tripped over something and landed on her hands and knees in the mud. Her glasses fell off and her hair was immediately plastered to her face by the rain. The briefcase drew an uneven arc before landing on the veranda.

God, kill me now! Bella thought as she struggled to get up, but slipped and fell on her elbows. She heard the shuffling of feet as somebody carefully sloshed through the mud and a second later the rain stopped. She looked up to see a tall man with an umbrella standing above her.

"Are you ok?" he yelled as he leaned down to help her. She blushed and tried to stagger up so that he didn't get muddy, but his left hand had already grabbed her by the elbow and hoisting her up. A second later, her glasses were handed to her and she was gently escorted towards the veranda.

"Thank you!" she breathed nervously as he shook the umbrella off "I'm so, so sorry, I didn't know the gravel was so…"

"Messy? Don't worry about it." he said, giving her a huge smile. Bella felt her jaw drop – he was magnificent. Tall and lean, with sinewy muscles hinted by the T-shirt he was wearing. The poor lighting made it difficult for her to tell what color his hair was, but his eyes were a vibrant green. And the smile was drop-dead-gorgeous, wide and toothy, showing a hint of dimples, juvenile. He looked so very young. A younger cousin of Edward Cullen? A friend? "Did you get lost? I'm afraid this isn't a fine day for hiking."

Pardon? "Um, is this the Cullen house?"

"Well, we don't call it that, but yeah." He began to bend to retrieve the briefcase, and then did a double take "Wait a minute. You're not Dr. Swan, are you?"

"Umm, actually, I am." She said and put her glasses on in an attempt to go back into professional mode, but then realized that they were covered in mud, so she took them off quickly "I'm so sorry about this mess, this was a bad idea, I shouldn't have come…"

"No, no, please!" he exclaimed, extending a hand to pat her shoulder, and stopping short when he realized his palm was muddy "Come on in. You didn't drive all this way for nothing. Do you have an extra suit?"

"Um, yeah, I picked one up from dry cleaning just before I came. It's in the backseat…"

"Ok. Give me your car keys." He said, leading her into the foyer. A middle-aged woman with hair the color of ketchup and syrupy brown eyes came up to meet them. "Mrs. Cope, will you please take Dr. Swan to the guest room?" the handsome man asked as he handed Bella her briefcase carefully. When Bella tried to protest, he quickly shushed her "Go, wash yourself, freshen up, take all the time you need." He gave her another juvenile smile, and before Bella could process any of that, she was following Mrs. Cope up the stairs, taking care not to leave too much mud in her wake.

* * *

Mrs. Cope led her to a door in a row of identical doors on the second floor and showed her into the bathroom. Bella followed, careful not to step on the thick carpet.

"I am so sorry for the mess."

"It's alright, Dr. Swan." Mrs. Cope gave her a smile that was as real as Pamela Anderson's breasts. "I'll clean this up real quick. No harm done." No permanent harm anyway. Bella gave her a grateful smile which felt more like a grimace, before excusing herself.

The bathroom was white and pristine, which made her feel like she was sticking out like a sore thumb, but as far as she was concerned, it was a safe haven as long as she was alone.

Her reflection in the mirror wasn't optimistic. Her hair was messy and falling out of the bun, sticking to her face. Her muddy glasses had left dark half-moons under her eyes. And her outfit… God, she looked horrible. The lower half of her dress pants was muddy; the upper was wet and sticking to her thighs uncomfortably. Her shirt was also drenched and outlining her bra, but it was dark blue, which salvaged the situation to a point. At least she hadn't looked like a wet T-shirt contestant.

Mrs. Cope knocked on the door and handed her the suit from the dry cleaning, still wrapped in a clear plastic bag.

"Thank you." Bella breathed.

"Mr. Edward got it real quick." She gave her the fake smile again.

"Mr. Edward?" she felt like a complete retard, and Mrs. Cope's look of disapproval told her everything she needed "Will you please tell him that I'll be down shortly?"

"Of course."

_Crap!_ Bella closed her eyes and counted to twenty-five, before opening them again and drawing a huge breath. Now she had not only made a fool out of herself, she made a fool out of herself in front of Edward Cullen, the man who had practically gotten under her skin in one phone call. And if that wasn't bad enough, the guy had looked like the sexiest bastard on Earth while she was muddy and drenched.

_Ok, don't panic_, she ordered herself, stripped her clothes off and washed her hands and face. Even if her entrance hadn't been… stellar, she wasn't about to let it ruin this for her. She finger-combed her hair and fixed her bun, before slipping into her suit, wishing it had pants instead of a skirt, but happy about the change nevertheless. She checked the briefcase to see if the letters were intact and wiped it with a piece of wet toilet paper, then cleaned her glasses and wrapped the dirty clothes in the plastic bag from the dry cleaning. Then, in a pedantic fit, she wiped the bathroom floor. She was about to wipe the rest of the house too, but when she opened the door to the bathroom, she found that it had already been cleaned.

Bella hadn't set two steps in the hallway before Mrs. Cope materialized again from somewhere, bonnet and apron and all, and asked for her clothes. Bella seemed reluctant, but once again, tact, slowness or outright fear prevented her from reacting on time. Before she knew what was happening, her clothes were firmly taken from her and she was told the way to the drawing room.

Honestly. Who said 'drawing room' anymore? And wasn't this thing a part of the Regency homes? Bella needed to brush up on that.

* * *

The drawing room was on the first floor and if she hadn't felt like she'd dropped in a time loop before, she certainly did when she entered. The walls were covered with dark wood panels, giving the room a cozy, homely feeling. The furniture was old, stylish. Even the pictures that adorned the walls were in thick, gold-colored frames, giving the whole room a sense of oldness.

In fact, the only thing in that room that looked contemporary was the man, Edward Cullen, in a dry pair of jeans and black T-shirt, with his hair in a strategic disarray, that had just risen from one of the large chairs near the fireplace to greet her.

"Dr. Swan." He began "I trust you're feeling better?"

"Yes. Thank you very much." She squeezed her briefcase a little harder than necessary when she crossed the room and extended a hand towards him "I apologize for my appearance a while ago, I don't know what got into me to run in the rain like that."

"No, I should apologize." He said as he motioned for her to take a seat in one of those sinfully comfortable chairs. "I should've come to the city instead of asking you to this remote house. I was getting worried that you might get lost or that you somehow got stuck in the rain. Thank God you didn't take the bus here."

"No, a friend of mine let me borrow his car." She smiled fondly. Then they stared at each other. Then at the fire. Then at the walls. Bella couldn't believe how awkward she suddenly felt. Before she could open her mouth to say anything, though, Edward began again.

"Dr. Swan, before we get on with this, I know I already wrote this in the letter I sent you, but now that we're here, I would like to offer you my apologies in person."

She blinked. "Apologies? What for?"

"For that phone conversation we had. It was extremely rude of me to talk to you like that, especially when I didn't even give you the chance to speak. Please forgive me."

She gaped, taken aback. She certainly hadn't expected such an earnest outburst, especially since he'd already apologized once. "You already apologized." She managed, feeling dumber than ever.

"I know, but I wanted to do so in person. Please, let me know how I can make amends to you." He looked so earnest Bella had a hard time staying professional. She looked down, hiding her reddening cheeks, and pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose. The movement allowed her to see down her own shirt and the scar that was hidden beneath its folds. That was enough to gather her wits about her and she said in a calm voice.

"You don't need to make amends for anything. You're forgiven." She watched him relax, even when his eyes remained careful.

"I'm sorry; I must be wasting your time." He said, slowly "But I really feel horrible for what I did. My mother washed my mouth out with soap when she learned how I had spoken to you, and I hope you believe me when I say I don't usually act the way I did. It's just that I've met many 'scholars' over the years and have come to think of them as a sort of groupies, terribly pushy ones, who care nothing for a person's private life – they're ready to exploit it no matter what. I've always been rather squeamish about the personal belongings of someone that has passed away, it feels like… voyeurism. I mean, if you wanted to make something public, you wouldn't have written it in your private journal or your letters to a dear friend…"

"Haven't you been to Vienna?" Bella interrupted "Haven't you gone to visit the houses of the different composers? Gone to the woods where Beethoven went for walks?"

He paused, and then gave her a smile. "I have, but there is a difference between looking at the manuscripts of sonatas and trying on Schubert's glasses. But… perhaps I am wrong and there is some hidden meaning that I cannot comprehend. I just feel squeamish about the personal items of a dead man… they don't lose their importance with the death of their owners… in fact, they matter even more. But hate the fact that I spoke to you so disrespectfully without letting you talk fist."

Bella coughed politely "It's all water under the bridge now. Shall we agree to say no more about it?" Actually, to some extent, she agreed with him, but she wasn't about to have him explain exactly why he was uncomfortable with scholars.

Edward nodded, seeming grateful for the quick solving of the problem. She took out the folder that contained the letters and carefully extracted the one from Edward Masen, handing it to him. Edward took it up reverently and started reading through it carefully. Just as she opened her mouth to start recounting the finding of the letters, a small door on the back of the room opened and Mrs. Cope came in, wheeling in a cart that seemed to be overflowing with food.

"Tea is served, Mr. Edward." She said as she laid out a table next to them.

Edward didn't look up or make any sign to acknowledge her, other than nod his head, while he read on. Bella didn't know what to do, and gave a smile that went unanswered. Mrs. Cope laid a snow-white tablecloth, and on it, she put down a large kettle, two teacups with saucers and spoons, a bowl of sugar, plates of different treats. Sandwiches and pieces of cake, feather-light scones and gingerbread cookies, pieces of toast, butter, marmalade and fruit, and everything looked absolutely delicious.

"I don't know if you've had breakfast yet…" Edward said, suddenly, without looking up at her.

"I've had coffee." She mumbled as she watched the growing pile of food. She was suddenly reminded of a passage in "Rebecca", and wondered if she ought to take this as some sort of hint. That she had no business sticking her nose into respectable, old families' business.

As soon as that thought came, however, it was chased away. There was no reason for any hostility, subtle or outright, on the part of Edward Cullen, or his housekeeper. She was just here on a matter of business. She didn't even know if she would see Edward Masen's letters. She was going to leave town in six hours or so. Surely, all this was probably just the result of over-planning. Mrs. Cope probably cooked a lot on Wednesdays, or she was just the type that liked to feed young people. Yet, when Bella looked at the woman, there was nothing maternal or grandmotherly about her. In fact, when she turned to look at Edward, she could've sworn she saw Mrs. Cope staring at her over the tops of her glasses.

"This is truly unbelievable." Edward interrupted her musings and caused her to turn her attention back to him again "You'll probably laugh at me, but I really am sorry that I couldn't be here earlier. You leave tonight, yes?"

"Um, yes…" she mumbled, and secretly breathed a sigh of relief when Edward dismissed Mrs. Cope

"I'm sorry. If I were here earlier, I would've been able to give you access to the documents, given you time to study them… now there's no time for that."

"Well…" Bella really didn't have anything to say to that. She really didn't want to go, but she did hope she could give the letters one glance, just one glance to get an inkling of Edward Masen's part of the story, before the vultures descended on them.

"The thing is, those letters were never really considered as part of some correspondence." Edward Cullen said "They were among his papers, which, as you probably know, were passed down to my mother, but until you came up with your grandmother's letters and the one from him, we never believed that they were actually ever sent. But this is truly… I have no words for it… And did you say they were tucked into a copy of his book?"

"Yes. I found it in the family library after my father's… after some remodeling." Bella didn't think that these details needed to be shared. Edward Cullen nodded.

"And they were never found? Not until now? Nobody in your family ever looked, all these years?"

The enquiry was completely innocent, and yet it had Bella's hackles rising all over again. Of course, he was in his right to be doubtful of her story, but to her, his question sounded condescending, mocking even. Had nobody in her family expressed a desire to read before? Or was she the only one that was nosy enough to disregard the private affairs of her ancestors?

"No." she replied, curtly "I've taken the trouble to have a chemist verify the letters – she said that they fit the time frame. And I guess that you can verify if the handwriting is the one of your grandfather."

Edward, noticing the sudden change of tone, seemed to realize that he had somehow offended her. Carefully, he returned the letter and poured her a cup of tea. Though Bella couldn't place the… Englishness of the gesture, she accepted it nevertheless, another peace token, exchanged. The Earl Gray smelled divine, though.

"You do understand that, up to some degree, Edward Masen did make a literary influence. Your letters make up a part of a correspondence…"

"Yes. They… that is to say, my grandmother and Mr. Masen discussed his work, from what I can tell from her letters." She said "I don't know if his works are studied much, but… it may make some impact."

"So you see, then, that there is probably no way to keep this secret. This would have to be published." He looked pretty miserable with the idea. Bella sighed.

"It's too early to say. But… if there was a chance for me to study the letters together, I would've consulted with you and decided on the best course of action."

Edward nodded, and tried to pick apart a piece of angel cake. When both of them saw that there would be no eating done, he excused himself briefly and fetched a large wooden box. He placed it on a small table near the window and beckoned Bella to come with him. The thick lid was lifted, and underneath, papers rustled. She let out a small gasp as she watched Edward fan through them as if he knew what he was looking for, before picking up a large bulk.

"Are those…" she whispered

"Yes." He said. Without thinking, Bella got her own folder out and opened it. Her grandmother's letters lay there, and Edward laid the others carefully beside them. It was so strange, seeing both sets of papers, of writing, standing right there, looking at them, and at the same time, it felt so familiar, so real. Bella bit her lip, and in spite of the blazing fire, she felt a little chill run down her spine.

It was exquisite.

Just then, her phone rang, making both of them jump slightly at the sound. Bella blushed and excused herself to the far end corner of the room, where she answered.

"Alice?"

"Oh, Bella, thank God! Where are you?"

"At the Cullen's." she said, checking her watch "What is it?"

"I've been trying to get a hold of you for an hour now!"

"Well, it's raining like the end of the world, the net is probably overloaded."

"Ok, whatever. Look, Irina called Laurent – apparently, she went into labor a couple of hours ago."

"Are you kidding me? Isn't she due for another month?"

"Well, apparently, Chinese Food plus "Love and other Disasters" is a labor inducing combination. And just don't ask me what she was doing eating Chinese at nine in the morning, but apparently, the baby's on way and she called him. He panicked, spilled some coffee on some poor slob at the hotel, called me, and took him about a hundred goes to get it straight…"

"Alice…"

"Ok, long story short, he needs to get there, and you didn't answer, so I traded tickets with him and convinced Felix to cut the vacation short, since I know you wouldn't want to be stuck in Chicago all alone and…"

"Wait-a-minute, wait-a-minute, go back there a sec. You traded tickets with them? With both of them?"

"Yeah. We're stuck in here for another two weeks!"

"Alice, you can't do that!"

"But I did. Weren't you bitching to me just yesterday how you didn't have enough time to check out Masen's letters? Don't tell me it was all a wild goose chase!"

"No, actually, I don't know. I haven't read the letters yet, but they look like the ones." Bella rubbed her forehead, before resuming the original topic "But Alice, we can't afford to stay in Chicago. We can't impose on Jasper for another two weeks…"

"Of course we can. He was with me when Laurent called. He said there was no problem with us staying over, even said you could take his car all you want, as long as you get it washed afterwards."

Getting that monster cleaned every day would be just as expensive as buying a plane ticket, Bella thought with a sigh.

"And…" Alice continued "We don't have to worry about jobs – it's summer vacation. I'm done with my Masters thesis and you're done with the classes. We have enough clothes and whatever we need, I can buy, and Jasper says that it'll be his pleasure to cook for us." And then she switched modes. "Don't be mad at me, Bella! You don't know what trouble I went through convincing Felix to go. I have to attend the lectures he was signed for, and that's no fun. Besides, how can you deny Laurent the opportunity to be there when his baby is born?"

Bella didn't have it in her heart to say that by the time Laurent got there, the baby would've most likely been born, but she understood the sentiment. She sighed. "Well, I suppose I can afford getting Jasper's truck cleaned."

"Sweet! Now, before you go, Jasper and I decided to have lunch back home, so don't seek us out, just go back to the flat. I'm making pancakes!" Only Alice could think about having pancakes for lunch. Although, with those scones calling out to her, Bella couldn't imagine having much of an appetite for lunch. "Ok, honey, take your time. Bye!"

"Bye, Alice." Bella sighed, and then turned the phone off.

Edward was waiting by the table, not having moved at all from his previous position, but he looked curious. "What was that about?"

"Apparently, my colleague's wife went into labor. My friend Alice agreed to change tickets with them." Bella explained curtly, wondering at the strange timing and its inexplicable convenience.

"Oh… so I guess you'll be sticking around for a while then?" Edward looked equal parts pleased and apprehensive.

"Yes." Bella looked at the letters "Can I…"

"Of course." Edward pulled her a chair and sat on the edge of the desk, watching her take a letter off the top of the pile and unfold it gently.

"_Dear Helen…"_

In the immortal words of Humphrey Bogart: "Louis, I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship."

* * *

**A/N - I'd love to hear from you guys. Btw, I'm going to do the nanowrimo this year - if anoyone wants a writing buddy, I'm Brouillons.**


	7. Chapter Seven

_**Chapter Seven**_

Bella looked at the rearview mirror as she drove towards the city. Edward's car, a shiny silver Volvo, was hot on her heels. She smiled, thankful that at least Jasper's car wouldn't fail her. Her first vehicle, a rusty Chevy truck, would've been blown off the water, and her Audi in Seattle would hardly stand much of a challenge.

She had to admit, when Edward offered to treat her and her friends to lunch, as yet another way of making amends, she expected that he would bring out some truck, or one of those power mobiles guys got off on having. But instead, he had shown her that he had a Volvo, one of the cars with the highest safety rating, and not only was he proud of himself, he seemed more than willing to race her to Chicago to show her how good it was.

Luckily, when he had mentioned it, Bella was quick to talk him out of it.

"It's a bad idea."

"Is the lady afraid of a challenge?" he asked, a vivid twinkle in his green eyes.

"Just practical. The roads are still muddy, and I don't want to get caught by the police for speeding." Not to mention that she got sick if the car went above 40 miles per hour. It reminded her of the First beach cliffs and the rusty VW Rabbit. "Besides, if you hit me by any chance, there wouldn't be a single dent, but if I hit you with this monster, I might take the whole back part of your car."

Edward looked appalled "Bella, you have so little trust in me." But her words registered, because he agreed to stay behind her and drive peacefully… even though whenever she looked at him, he looked ready the floor it and blow past her.

She'd already called Alice to tell Jasper that they were eating out, but the drive to the city was bound to take a while with her snail pace driving. She somehow understood why Edward had told her in his mail that the house was only thirty minutes away from the city – he probably took that track in negative time.

Their little tête-à-tête with the letters was interrupted several times by Mrs. Cope, first to wheel away the barely touched feast, then to bring Bella's clothes, and finally to ask what Edward would like for lunch. That was the moment when the idea that he would take her to lunch in the city was sprung. Bella, on her part, was saddened that she didn't have more time with Edward Masen's letters, but didn't dwell on that. As much as she hated the fact that they were going to impose on Jasper for another two weeks, she was ecstatic that she could actually get some work done.

* * *

They pulled up in front of Jasper's building and Bella made sure to give the Hummer a good look, to make sure it wasn't in a too horrible condition, while Edward descended from his car. "Is this where you're staying?" he asked as he eyed the non-descript building for any signs of hotels.

"Yeah. A friend of mine works in the University of Chicago, and he was kind enough to let us crash in on him." Bella said as she juggled her briefcase and the bag of clothes. Edward came over to help her out. "Thank you." She mumbled and motioned him to follow her "I just need to change real quick for lunch, I'm sorry you'll have to wait a little."

"No problem." Edward flashed a careful smile, still looking around the building dubiously. He looked so out of place, Bella thought suddenly, in his casual, but obviously expensive clothes.

Jasper opened the door to them, and to his credit, didn't even raise an eyebrow when he saw the man that was towing behind his friend and carrying her clothes. But Alice, who was right behind him, noticed immediately:

"Oh my God, Bella, what happened to you? Why are your clothes different?"

"I tripped." She said sullenly. Alice was about to launch into another verbal assault, when she saw Edward and her jaw literally dropped. The man in question stood there awkwardly, waiting to be introduced, and Bella was rudely reminded of her manners only after Jasper coughed politely.

"Oh, yes. Um, Mr. Cullen, these are my friends, Alice Brandon and Dr. Jasper Whitlock. Ali, Jazz, this is Edward Cullen."

Edward shook hands with them, exchanging pleasantries. As it the touch of his hand had woken something deep in Alice, she jumped and hauled Bella off to the bedroom, "to get ready", leaving Jasper and Edward to entertain themselves in the minuscule living room.

"Oh. My. God! Bella!" she squealed quietly as soon as the door closed "_That_'s Edward Cullen?"

"In the flesh." Bella commented as she eyed herself in the mirror "There isn't any mud in my hair, is there?"

"Thankfully, no." Alice said as she opened the cases frantically "Oh, God, I wish I'd brought one of my autumn dresses over, I feel so unprepared!"

"What's wrong with the clothes you have on now?" Bella asked, looking at her friend's white pants and blue blouse ensemble.

"I'm not talking about myself; I'm talking about you, Bella!" Alice groaned "I don't know what to let you wear… oh, wait!" she dug out a sleeveless white dress "This'll do perfectly."

"_Alice, I absolutely refuse to wear that."

* * *

_

Bella's voice resonated through the door and floated, albeit muffled, to the two men sitting in the living room. Jasper gave Edward a sheepish smile as he poured him a glass of soda. The latter was sitting on the sofa, looking around himself, taking in the walls, covered in books and the IKEA furniture. Honestly, he'd have thought that someone who could afford to keep a Hummer Jeep would have a better home.

"So…" he began, feeling the need to make small talk "You and Dr. Swan have been friends for a while then, Dr. Whitlock?"

"You could say that." Jasper chuckled "And please, drop the whole 'Doctor' thing and call me by my name, it feels like I'm in the classroom again."

"Sorry…" Edward smiled "It's just that I've been calling Dr. Swan by her professional title and I just assumed…" he made an uncertain gesture.

Jasper raised an eyebrow: "What did you do to piss her off? Bella doesn't make anyone call her by her surname unless she hates them with genocidal fury."

Edward laughed and explained his asinine behavior about the first time they spoke on the phone, all the while pondering on that little piece of information. Bella. Dr. Swan's Christian name was Bella. Was it just a nickname? Or perhaps her real name? He briefly wondered about nomen and omen, the belief that names were prophetic, and what it would be like to live up to a name like Bella Swan. Then, of course, he remembered how earlier this day, Dr. Swan had descended from the huge Jeep and attempted to run to safety, only to fall down not once, but twice in the mud. He pondered the irony of it, before he decided that Dr. Swan's apparent lack of footing in a torrential downpour was none of his business.

Jasper, luckily, turned out to be one of those guys that appreciated silences more than conversations, because after sympathizing with Edward over his mess-up, he slipped into a quiet contemplation of something out the window and said no more.

* * *

The girls emerged after fifteen minutes (a record as far as the men were concerned) and Edward drove them to a small bistro in the center city. Once seated, Alice decided to break the ice by, how else, talking about Bella.

"So, did Bella behave herself?"

Edward looked up from the menu, startled. "Pardon?"

"I know she can be a little neglectful, but when it comes to work, she is inexhaustible. Nothing can deter her. Did she behave herself?"

Bella bowed her head and wished the ground would swallow her whole.

"Well…" Edward coughed "I don't think she was neglectful. But then again, she has two whole weeks to misbehave." He gave Bella a bright smile from across the table, and she turned the approximate shade of a ripe tomato.

Jasper, once again, coughed politely, and diverted the conversation. Briefly. "Thanks for bringing us here, Edward." Somewhere between minute 2 and minute 3 of their silent wait together they had indeed passed on first name basis "I've never been to this place before."

"Well, they make some pretty good steaks, and I wanted to make amends for what I did."

"Oh, yeah. Bella mentioned that your first conversation didn't go well…" Alice said, and Bella ducked her head again. There was something extremely interesting in the way she did that, Edward thought as he watched her glasses slide down her nose and she pushed them up. It was as if she was trying to hide behind a curtain of hair. Only in her case, all her hair was pulled ruthlessly back. And then he shook himself from the reverie. He was just being civil, he told himself. This was a mere friendly lunch to amend for his bad behavior.

"She's extremely patient." He said, and then went on to suggest what was best to order in the bistro.

During the lunch, Bella said very little, choosing, like Jasper, to fade in the background and listen to Alice and Edward talk. Or, rather, Alice firing question after question and Edward answering readily. They were interesting together; they made up such a dynamic of conversation. So different from Jasper and her, who chose to remain quietly and observe.

Through the cross-examination, Bella learned that Edward was thirty years old, working as a composer for movie soundtracks, and that he worked mostly from home. He was an only child and was a maniac whenever music was concerned.

* * *

After the meal, Jasper suggested they take a stroll through the park, 'to walk the food off', as he put it, and the idea was agreed on heartily. The whole group headed to Grant Park, where Alice skipped ahead, dragging Jasper with her. Edward was watching the verdure around him pensively and almost missed out to see that Dr. Swan was lagging behind.

When he turned around, something about her walking slowly through the park in that white dress of hers made him think less of a schoolteacher and more of a quiet student, looking for a place to read. And then he noticed that she seemed to have trouble keeping up with Alice and Jasper, so he lagged back and walked with her.

"Your friends are… very interesting." Edward said, politely. Bella let out a soft snort. "What is it?"

"Personal quirk. I don't like that word."

"Friends?"

"Interesting." She rolled her eyes "It's so overused. So… random. It means so many things that you just don't know what to make of it anymore. I have the feeling that people say 'interesting' when they don't know what to say." she smiled, but then the implications of her words sank in and she gasped "I didn't mean to offend you, I didn't think."

"Oh, yes, because making your opinion known is such a criminal offence." Edward mock-tutted, but smiled nevertheless "Actually, you're right. I wasn't sure how to put it. But Alice is very exuberant, and Jasper seems like a nice guy – I said "interesting" as a way of generalization, because the two seem to have nothing in common, but I meant it in the most flattering aspects of the word."

Bella nodded, but thought about the previous week. She definitely saw many similarities between Alice and Jasper, but then again, they'd been friends forever. Edward had known them for less than a couple of hours.

"Dr. Swan…" he broke through her reflections, and she looked up at him "I wanted to ask something, but it didn't seem appropriate in front of your friends… Please don't take this the wrong way, but where do you sleep?"

Bella blinked, taken aback by the question. "I beg your pardon?"

"I didn't see the guest rooms in the apartment, and, well…"

She was too shocked to think straight, so she answered bluntly: "There aren't guest rooms. We took the bedroom; Jasper's sleeping on the couch."

Edward looked positively horrified. He'd sat on that couch! It had barely been enough for him to fold himself on it! He looked at Jasper's figure and mentally calculated his height and shoulder length. The poor guy probably had to fold himself in half to sleep on that couch.

"Mr. Cullen?"

He stuffed his hands in his pockets, and, in a bout of inspiration, asked: "What if I asked you if you wanted to stay with me."

Bella didn't answer. He stared at her, trying to convey his absolute seriousness. She looked confused. "I don't understand."

"I didn't mean to pry, but I couldn't help but overhear your conversation with your friend earlier, over the phone." He explained "I heard you were worried about imposing on your friend. Would you consider coming over to stay in one of the guest rooms at my house?"

She looked at him as if he'd grown a second head. "That's very generous of you, but I don't want to impose."

"It's nothing." Edward said, stuffing his hands in his pockets "Mrs. Cope cooks so much for me, I feel guilty that we're the only two people eating it. It'll make no difference if there is a third person, and it'll be easier for your work. Besides, you wouldn't have to go through the trouble of renting a car or borrowing Jasper's Jeep every day, and I go to the city every few days, so it wouldn't be a problem if you came with me."

Bella gaped, trying to make heads and tails of this surreal day. First she drove to see Edward Cullen, the guy who treated her like an asshole when they first talked, made a fool out of herself in front of him, he didn't mock her, saw the letters which she'd been dreaming about for months now, and now the said Edward Cullen suggested that she stayed at his house for two weeks while she did her research. It was too much, even for her, to take in at once, and she had to take several moments to gather her wits about her.

"Well, that's… definitely generous of you." She mumbled "But I still don't think it's a good idea." 10 o'clock feasts over tea weren't something she could get used to. But then she looked at Jasper, who offered so selflessly to share his apartment with two girls, one of which he hadn't seen in years and another one whom he'd never met, and felt bad for him, imagining him splayed on that couch night after night. She felt so guilty…

"It's no trouble." Edward assured her.

Bella thought about it, sighed, thought about it again, and then pursed her lips:

"If you let me at least pay for my food."

"No can do." He chuckled "You'll come as my guest. Mrs. Cope will be ecstatic to have another young person to look after. You wouldn't have to raise a finger."

Bella groaned inwardly, but plastered a content smile on her face. Without her, she was sure Alice could easily convince Jasper to switch rooms, and she could probably help him redecorate.

"Thank you." She said, looking Edward straight in the eye "I think I'll accept."


	8. Chapter Eight

_**Chapter Eight**_

The first day passed relatively well. Edward insisted on hauling Bella's suitcase to the second floor, and then gave her a tour of the house.

Thought she was itching to start on the letters, read them, catalogue them, see what connection they had with the memoir, Bella couldn't help being impressed with the house. Built in 1870, it was still relatively new when Edward Masen was born. During the tour, Edward Cullen explained that the house had been remodeled several times, but from the first look, you couldn't really tell that. Every room looked exactly like it had over a hundred years ago. Everything was well-kept, and it was all extremely beautiful.

And in the end of the first floor hallway, her Mecca.

"This is the library," Edward said as he opened the door and showed her into the spacious room.

Bella had to bite her lip to stop herself from squealing like a little girl at a Bon Jovi concert. Library, he said… Library didn't even begin to cover it. Four of the six walls were taken up by shelves, and the shelves were filled to the brim with books. The furniture was made out of some wonderful dark wood, and the warm, earthy colors gave the room a cozy feeling, as if it were a den. There was even a fireplace with a marble mantle, and the large windows let in lots of light into the room.

Her jaw was probably hanging as she stepped in and took a small breath. It was wonderful.

"I hope you'll be comfortable here," Edward said. "I would've offered you the study as a workroom, but it's so dark and dingy, and it's constantly cold. This room looks on East, so it's bright and sunny in the morning and we can start a fire at night. It's a little big, but…"

"It's perfect," she said. "I can't thank you enough for this."

"What, the room?" Edward shifted in his place, his face acquiring that strange mix of pleasure and apprehension she'd noticed the other day when they'd first met. "Surely, you need a space to work, right?"

"Not just this room. The offer to stay over." Bella gave a little smile. "It's rare that you meet a person who is willing to take so much on. I realize that this situation is awkward for you, but I wanted to let you know I appreciate it. I doubt I would've agreed to stay if I were imposing on Jasper."

Edward fidgeted. "Well, it seemed like the logical solution. And those letters…" his eyes softened and he let out a small smile "…they've intrigued me. I want to know the full story. And… well, let's just say that I'd rather have you do the work and give me an idea of what we're dealing with than some other… colleagues of yours."

And cue the uncomfortable silence. Bella nodded and turned towards the large rosewood desk, where the wooden box of letters was already residing. Edward watched her sit down, get her pen and paper, put some gloves on and unfold the letter that was on top. Then he slipped out, quietly.

* * *

She spent the better part of the day reading and taking notes. Most of the information matched the one she had about her grandmother's letters, but she couldn't get past the feeling that something was missing. And meanwhile, she got a bigger idea about the situation.

Helen had been originally from Chicago, before she married Ezra Swan and moved to Forks with him. What Bella hadn't looked up, what she hadn't known, was that she had spent a good deal of time working as a governess for the Masen's. In fact, that's how she met Edward in 1912, as his younger sister's governess. Bella read with interest at his recount of the five years they'd spent under the same roof, her as the employee, him as the employer.

…_I shan't forget the way you worked, how you spent hours curbed over the books and the papers, trying to work out a way to keep our minds focused on the lesson. I can see you now, bowed over the desk, with a few stray tendrils lying across your neck. Your grey eyes squinted as they read through a paragraph, and that small smile which only you could understand. _

_It is an image of the past, one of a childhood long gone, a memory of a life which, today, seems like the life of someone entirely different from me. And yet, if there is anything that makes the connection between the two, it would be you._

It made Bella wonder how strange it must've been for him. He'd met Helen when he was fourteen – not a boy, but definitely not a man either. And he had known her throughout all of puberty. When he'd left for France, he'd been nineteen, and she had been on the point of marriage. It had been a time of transition for both of them, a trial. At the time, a boy of nineteen was considered a man, but Bella knew that emotional maturity came in different shapes and forms, and for Edward Masen, who'd lived a relatively secluded life; the Front must've been an eye-opener. A shocking one too.

Caught in her musings, she didn't see how the sun came and went, how the shadows extended their ghostly fingers in the room, until it was so dark she could hardly make out the letters.

That was how Edward found her – curbed over the desk, squinting hard, trying to make out the writing, when it was so dark outside it was practically impossible to see anything. Hitting the light switch had her jumping up in fear, and he couldn't help a small smile. Her concentration was astonishing.

"I see the work is going on well," he said, hoping for a conversation breaker.

"Yeah." Bella rubbed her forehead absent-mindedly. "Is it about to rain? Why is it so dark?"

"It's nearly nine o'clock," Edward pointed out. "Dinner has been served for quite some time and Mrs. Cope said you didn't ring for lunch."

Bella blinked. "I must've forgotten… wait, you have to ring for lunch?"

Edward looked apologetic, but his voice was amused. "I'm afraid so. I'm a very sloppy person, and I often forget to eat. Mrs. Cope respects my… artistic bouts, so I have to call her whenever I feel like eating lunch or not. I'm sorry I didn't tell you."

"Next thing you know, you'll be telling me I have to dress for dinner," Bella said weakly, as she rose.

"No, that won't be necessary," he said, as they walked out of the library and headed for the dining room. "So, tell me a little more about what you found today."

* * *

The next day passed in a similar fashion. Bella woke early, had tea with Edward Cullen (Mrs. Cope, apparently, hadn't heard her request coffee the earlier day), and then worked. She had the presence of mind to ask if he would be having lunch, but the housekeeper informed her that Mr. Edward was too busy composing. Bella considered eating lunch by herself, but something in Mrs. Cope's demeanor made her decide she could live. She wanted to slim down anyway. No need to eat like a pig.

Edward's artistic bug, it seemed, raged like crazy. At some point, Bella got up to open the windows to let in some fresh air, and that's when she heard the piano.

He wasn't entirely a trust fund baby, she decided as she listened for a while. The melody sounded complex and engaging, yet catchy at the same time. It looked like an actually solid piece of work. Bella never considered herself a musical expert, but it irked her when a movie went with a horribly simplistic soundtrack. Taking a melody and playing it in different tempos didn't turn it into different songs.

She looked out the window, curious. The sound seemed to be coming from an old greenhouse on the northern side of the house. Though she was curious to see him work, to assess if the caricatures of composers in the throes of work were any accurate, Bella imagined that he didn't like to be interrupted. Sighing quietly, she made a mental note to ask.

* * *

That night, she couldn't rest. She wasn't a sound sleeper, either, with old traumas coming to haunt her in the middle of the night, as if she were eighty-two instead of twenty-eight, but now it was different. Bella tossed and turned and changed positions so often she was afraid she'd woken up the whole house.

Her chest hurt, her back hurt, her leg was killing her… it was the damned cold. It had rained in the afternoon and the temperatures had dropped considerably. Not to mention how drafty the old house was. Edward had warned her that in spite of the warming system, it was still a pretty large place. Bella tossed and turned restlessly, then, with a groan, got up with the intention of getting more blankets.

A chill shot through her as soon as her feet touched the floor. Not a good kind of chill either. It was the kind of chill you get into one of those movies when you feel danger approaching. She turned around herself sharply, but, of course, she was alone. However, she noticed the subtle movement of the curtains, and she walked over to see what was going on.

One of the double windows was cracked open.

"Why haven't I thought of this before?" she mumbled and walked over to close it. She honestly needed to get her head cleared. Too much had happened in a small amount of time, she couldn't take it in.

Her room looked out on the same side as the library windows. The house was surrounded by a small garden, before the forest began. For the life of her, Bella couldn't fathom why anyone would want to build a house smack dub in the middle of nowhere, but now that she looked on to the peaceful scenery, she had to admit that it was pretty amazing. The rain clouds had dissipated, allowing the half moon to bathe the garden in its pale light. Bella imagined what it would be like if she walked out in the night air, spread her hands out and dance… it would be like a fairy tale.

It would also give her host the impression that she was somnambular.

Another chill shot down her spine, making her shiver more violently than before, and she turned towards the wardrobe, where Mrs. Cope had left some extra blankets. However, when she turned around, a flash of white caught her eye and she looked towards the far corner of the room. There, by the window stood a tall figure with what looked like a haystack on top of it.

Bella gasped. The figure seemed to be looking at her intently. Something by its sides twitched, like hands.

The blankets fell to the floor in a soft thud as she reached for the bedside lamp, while scrambling of her glasses at the same time. But when the light went on and she was surrounded by a warm halo, she turned around to discover that she was alone in the room again. What she had thought to be an intruder turned out to be the coat wrack holding her jacket, and the "hands" – the shadows of a nearby tree's branches.

Shaking her head, as if mocking her own stupidity, Bella climbed back into bed, turned off the lights and cocooned in the blankets.

But she couldn't sleep. Sometime in the night, a strong wind started to blow, howling in the empty chimneys of the house and making something rattle. She had a good mind to go downstairs, find the source of the noise and nail it shut, but she guessed her host wouldn't appreciate the late night housing improvements. She turned restlessly until somewhere around four in the morning when it got quiet again.

That was why, when she opened her eyes groggily at 9 AM, after a restless nap, she could've sworn she saw Edward, in rumpled flannel pajamas, sitting in a chair not two feet away from the bed, looking at her intently. However, when Bella rubbed her eyes and fetched her glasses, the chair was empty.

She sat up in bed and groaned, rubbing her forehead. Clearly, she thought, it had been a while.

Fantasizing about a man wasn't unusual for a young, strong woman, nor was it shameful that she was apparently so impressed with her host's good looks that her sleepy mind as conjuring up images of him. It showed that she wasn't all that expired in the romance department, which was an optimistic thought because it had been a year since she'd had sex with a man. On the other hand…

It was pretty pathetic.

* * *

While his guest was mulling over the symbolism of her semi-conscious deliriums, Edward received a phone call and wondered, for the umpteenth time since he came back home, why did he have to be such good friends with half the city. And not just any half, but the half which didn't take "no" for an answer. He'd barely put his bags down, so to speak, and now family duty obliged him to put on a monkey suit and play sophisticated. He'd much rather sit in slacks and a T-shirt and play at home than go to the parties which he was forced to attend.

But professor Volturi had not only been a good friend of his family, she'd written an incredible study of Masen's works. She'd done it without altering his life or turning his words into a way that would suit her theories. Edward was profoundly grateful for that. But the fact that she now expected him to come to whatever small "gathering" she threw was extremely annoying. He paused, wondering if it would be a good idea to take Dr. Swan with him. She had mentioned that she had looked up some people that did research on Edward Masen before she came, but she couldn't bother Professor Volturi. She would be profoundly grateful if she could talk to her, and there would definitely be merits for the research. And Dr. Swan…

Dr. Swan what? Edward paused halfway up the stairs. Why was he doing this? Why was he suddenly so very interested in helping this woman out? And to go to such lengths as to invite her at his house and introduce her to his intimate acquaintances… surely, a normal man wouldn't do that unless there was something in it for him.

Actually, there was something in for him. The mystery. The first time he'd read the scan of Edward Masen's letter, he'd been baffled. He couldn't believe that this was possible. He'd read the letters to the "Dear Madam", the woman unknown, who he now knew as Helen Swan, and he'd always thought they were just the product of his great-grandfather's mad imagination. But then, this Dr. Swan showed up and completely blew it away. She and those letters. To say that Edward was not willing to let the mystery hang was an understatement.

But why? Why Dr. Swan? Why this particular scholar? There had been many interested in Masen before, and Edward himself could attest to the fact that at least some of them had been attractive.

Maybe it was because she tripped and fell that first day when she attempted to run to the doorstep instead of waiting for the rain to cool down. He'd expected some prim and proper wannabe, who was so tightly wrapped in their suit they couldn't breathe. Instead, he got a girl that barely looked out of her teens, clueless and clumsy to no end, looking so out of place even when she cleaned herself up and changed into a suit. She'd caught him off guard, and he just couldn't look at her like one of those manipulators he'd met in the past.

Not to mention there was a certain charm to her properness. It made him want to see her undone, losing control. Images ran through his head: Dr. Swan without her glasses. Dr. Swan undoing the buttons of her shirt. Dr. Swan, on her knees, with her lips wrapped around his…

Edward blinked, taken aback by the sheer ludicrousness of the thought. It really must've been long, he thought with a laugh and a shake of his head, if he was desperate enough to try and consider someone as frigid and serious as Dr. Isabella Swan as even marginally sexy.

And yet at the same time he felt cold and somewhat embarrassed, as if just by thinking about it he had insulted his guest…

He shook his head. It was getting way too complicated. He needed to go to professor Volturi's party, and if Dr. Swan agreed to come with him, it would be mutually beneficial.

And he was going to have to find a way to take care of his problem.


	9. Chapter Nine

_**Chapter Nine**_

"This is seriously bad for my work," Bella declared.

There was a static buzz on the other side of the line, probably from Alice sighing in exasperation. Then there were voices in the background – she was probably filling Jasper in on the situation – before she brought her attention back to Bella.

"Ok, Bella, I am not going to comment on the fact that your host decided to take you on a dinner party thrown by _the _Professor Volturi…" Alice stressed on the three last words, mimicking Bella's tone from before she told her what was going on, "and only told you so a few minutes ago, but other than the fact that I am deprived of the pleasure of taking you shopping, I don't see what the problem is."

"The problem," Bella growled as she tore through her luggage, "is that I've had a bad night, a terrible night, have fallen behind on my schedule…"

"You have a schedule?"

"Zip it, smart ass. Yes, I have a schedule. And it just so happens that I put a lot of effort into showing him that I'm a professional who can work under pressure. And now that he has told me I'm expected to join him for some visit, I can't focus because I've packed nothing remotely appropriate and I feel cornered and flustered."

"You obviously haven't opened the garment bag for your suits much, have you?" Alice huffed. "Check out in the bottom. And why, may I ask, do you have to prove anything to Edward?"

"Because he's this trust fund baby that looks down on his nose on me, hates scholars and just so happened to be there when I made a fool of myself. I bet he made up his mind about me before I even opened my mouth. And… Alice!" Bella gasped, before pulling a dress out of the bottom of her garment bag. "You packed a dress?"

"I guessed it could come in handy," came the sheepish reply.

"No wonder it was so heavy… Hey, weren't you bitching to me a few days ago how you forgot to pack me dresses?" Bella murmured, staring at the garment in her hands. She couldn't possibly wear that… could she?

"Dresses you could wear to a causal lunch. This one is good for going out at night." The snarky comment was successfully bitten back and swollen. "You'll thank me later, Bella!"

"Yeah… I bet I will," Bella murmured as she hung up, then went to the bathroom and held the dress out in front of herself, wondering if this was a good idea.

It wasn't.

* * *

Edward was sitting in the library, carefully reading through the letters of his great grand-father, marveling, once again, at the elegance of the words and the sentiments they conveyed. Not for a million years would he have thought something this exquisite could be written for another human being. He'd always assumed that they were something his grandfather had created in a bout of loneliness, or as a substitute for a journal. But, having read Helen's response, he had noticed not only that the letters had been written for someone, but that they were created as an outlet of an incredible partiality between two people. Edward was very curious to find out more about Helen Swan, but her granddaughter seemed rather reluctant to share any stories she had heard over the years.

He imagined that she had to have been an incredible woman to have Masen fall in love with her. Too bad her great granddaughter didn't look like she took after her. An unkind thought, but one that he had been spinning in his head the whole day to keep the memory of something else at bay.

When he'd first gone looking for her to invite her to the dinner party, he hadn't found her in the library, so he went up to her room. She didn't answer the knock, but he let himself in nevertheless. Bella, feeling tired and annoyed after the restless night, had decided to take a shower – without noticing that the bathroom door had been left slightly ajar, and giving Edward a chance to glimpse at her through the shower curtain.

He'd only stood there for about two seconds, the time it took him to realize what he was actually seeing, and then he'd left immediately. However, even though the curtain was fogged up and blurring her features, he hadn't missed the creamy color of her skin and the delicious contrast it had with her brown locks.

The imagery, combined with his thoughts of earlier, had done nothing to help his current sexual frustration, and made him a little more than desperate to find a way to deal with it. He quickly ran the guest list for the party through his head. Tanya was bound to be there, although he didn't want to go anywhere near those waters, as well as Jane, and maybe Siobhan too. Many women, many of them willing to spend the night with him. He breathed a sigh of relief. Maybe then he could act around her like a gentleman around his guest and learn the rest of the story she had yet to tell.

A knock on the door interrupted his train of thought and he lifted his eyes to find Dr. Swan standing in the threshold.

The sight of her took his breath away.

She was wearing a long, sleeveless dress with a high neckline that barely went underneath her collar bone. It hugged her torso without being sewn into it, hinting of the curves of her breasts instead of showcasing them. The skirt fell just below her knees in waves of passion red, which brought out the crimson highlights in her hair. And… there was something more, but he couldn't put his finger on it…

"Ahem…" she coughed. "I wanted to check with you first. This is the only dress I have, but if it doesn't suit the dress code for the event you're taking me to, I could go and change into a suit."

"No!" he exclaimed, then corrected himself, "it's perfect. No need to change."

She looked at him dubiously. "Are you sure?" And then he saw it. Her voice still held that teacher undertone, but now it didn't get to him as badly as before. Because her glasses were off…

Edward swallowed and prayed to every deity that would listen that he wouldn't lose control. "I'm sure." He rose to his feet and coughed. "Shall we?"

Bella gave him a small smile and nodded. Then she turned around and walked towards the door, and Edward finally saw the last, winning feature of the dress. The back wasn't completely mimicking the front, hanging down to the middle of her spine, showing just about enough skin without being immodest. He felt his mouth go dry.

* * *

The drive to the Volturi's was short and filled with quiet conversation. Edward explained that Professor Volturi had been a longtime family friend and that he respected her deeply, hence the reason why he couldn't refuse her invitation. He also told her that some of the guests would be from the University of Chicago, some from Northwestern, and that at some point he would have to leave her on her own to "mingle".

Bella didn't see a way out of the mingling, but something about the night, about her host's behavior made her uneasy. Something other than her dislike of having to interact with people she never met before tied her stomach in knots.

The Volturi's lived in an old Victorian in the bay area of the city. The décor was simple, yet expensive, with antique furniture and Persian rugs, heavy curtains on the windows and a few choice pieces on display. She felt a thrill run down her spine as they entered a lavish sitting room and she noticed the many bookshelves, filled with large tomes in English, Latin, French and Italian.

There were people, of course, lots of them, but not enough to make her feel claustrophobic. Edward introduced her to the hostess and then left her on her own. He planned on finding Bree or Siobhan, hoping he could sweet talk them on dropping in after the party at his house. His apartments were in the opposite wing from his guest's, and he knew that Dr. Swan went to bed early, so he was sure he could be discreet.

As luck would have it, he did find Bree, but he noticed, too late, that she was talking to Dr. Swan, and his friendly greeting face froze in a mildly constipated grimace.

He didn't have much time to hesitate – the two women noticed him, and Bree waved him in enthusiastically.

"Edward!" she squealed with delight as he weaved his way towards them "I was looking everywhere for you, you devil!" she reached over to touch his arm, but not in a proprietary way. She either hadn't realized Dr. Swan was his guest, or she didn't consider her a possible rival. For his own sake, Edward didn't dwell on the fact why he found the latter option so dreadfully offensive.

"Hello Bree. Dr. Swan," he acknowledged her with a polite nod. "Are you enjoying the evening?"

"Yes. It's delightful," she said coolly, eyeing the way Bree clung to him. "I was just explaining Ms. Ravencraft how kind you were to offer to host this little… gathering we agreed to throw."

"You were always so kind," Bree gushed. Edward smiled at her devilishly.

"To some more than to others," he said.

"I must introduce you to Dr. Denali, Isabella," Bree continued, turning towards Dr. Swan. "She's my thesis advisor, and she's been so helpful."

Edward listened to her talk for a while, studying both women's body language and Dr. Swan's face. On the outside, she appeared perfectly cool and interested in whatever Bree had to say, but he also noticed the slight tilt of her lips, the sparkle in her eyes that suggested that she was condescendingly amused by what she was hearing. After whispering in his ear that she would see him later, Bree sauntered off to find someone among the guests, leaving Edward and Isabella alone again.

He suddenly felt awfully uncomfortable and cleared his throat before asking:

"So, nice chat?"

"It was… enlightening," she said calmly and sipped her water. "Friend of yours?"

"Err… yes. You could say that," he said, suddenly feeling like an awkward schoolboy. Damn her and her teacher countenance.

"I see." Dr. Swan nodded, not pressing the matter, but the way she eyed Bree's retreating form spoke volumes.

"Her Master's thesis is on the feminist themes in "Pride and Prejudice"," Edward offered, hoping to steer the topic towards a safer ground. If Bree's not considering Dr. Swan a rival had somehow offended him, Dr. Swan's disdain of Bree made him feel more than uncomfortable.

"Yes, she told me of that. Actually, her advisor, Dr. Denali, wrote a paper on your great-grandfather, did she not?" When he nodded an affirmative, Dr. Swan continued. "I was a little dubious when I heard her thesis subject, but now I'm not surprised."

"How so?" Edward asked, looking at her curiously.

"You know Dr. Denali?"

"Yes."

"Then perhaps it has struck you that she has her own ideas and doesn't like to alter them?" she asked. "Her essay struck me as overly pretentious."

Edward shifted in his place, feeling his discomfort grow with each word. As he watched Dr. Swan's piercing, shrewd eyes, he knew that it was exactly what she aimed for. _That woman was evil._ But more importantly, she was also right. Tanya was pretentious. She never altered her point of view. She was manipulative and seductive and knew exactly what to say to whom. The fact that Dr. Swan was pointing it out was only making him very uneasy – as if he'd been stripped naked and left for the world to see.

"Well, Bree's a smart girl. I'm sure that under the correct guidance, she'll blossom and develop her full potential," he said.

Reason reared her head from the depths of his mind and shrieked in panic: _"What are you doing! Defending Bree Ravencroft? Are you out of your mind? Don't you see you're just waving the red cape at the bull?"_

Dr. Swan's soft smile confused him. She looked awfully… condescending.

"She's found a match in Dr. Denali, I suppose. Although Jane Austen's works can hardly be considered feminist in their content. If they were to belong to a certain branch of literature, I would but them under feminine, not feminist." She drank her water.

"Yeeees…. Quite true." Did he just say 'quite true'? That woman was seriously messing with his head. Edward coughed politely and said, "Have you managed to talk to Sulpicia? About the letters."

Dr. Swan shook her head. "The queen is holding court, and I am not part of the entourage," she said as she pushed off the wall. "But I'll continue to mingle, as you put it, and see if I can get closer. Excuse me."

* * *

Bella had discovered that the dinner party was nothing more than an exercise at pretentiousness not too long after Edward left her alone. She was by nature a very unassuming sort of person, so when people met her without her gracious host, they came to the conclusion she was a nobody, or a small fish in the big, crowded pond. In either case, they had no trouble dropping all pretenses and acting like the stuck-up bastards they were around her. Every person she met, including the hostess, was boring, self-centered, or all-in-all brain-dead.

The discovery that she had been brought to that place to be, metaphorically, thrown at the lions, didn't offend her as much as it ought to have. Talking to Professor Volturi, in fact, delivered her from any lingering illusions that experience meant accuracy – Sulpicia, as she insisted on being called, had once been brilliant, but it appeared that she hadn't left her house in a decade, completely alienating herself from reality. From their talk (an interrupted monologue, actually), Bella gathered that the professor was living in a different time and age, where everything measured up to her opinion. Any doubts about whether or not it was wise to share her discovery with her vanished when Sulpicia started waxing eloquent about her begonias. When her last sentence was about Fitzgerald.

By the time Bella had freed herself of the old leech, she was perfectly happy about going back, but she was entirely dependent on her host's whims. She imagined it wouldn't take Edward long to get tired of the spectacle, but given the women he chose to consort with ("Omigod-Jane-Austen-Was-A-Feminist Bree") she settled down on a sofa with a glass of wine and decided to people-watch from a comfortable distance.

"These parties can be stifling, can they not?" a soft, husky voice floated from her right, accompanied by the smell of a cigar. Bella turned her head just slightly and gave the woman a nod.

"I suppose."

The woman took it as an invitation to join her (or perhaps she didn't feel the need to ask), slid down on coach and crossed her legs so that the slit of her black dress rode several inches up her thigh.

"But sometimes there are precious gems that can be found in the dust, don't you think?"

"Only sometimes, Dr. Denali."

The woman's eyes widened just a fraction and said, in a slightly surprised tone, "You've discovered me rather quickly, Dr. Swan. Pray, how did you manage it?"

Bella's smile was polite, and just barely on the "I'm-acting-nice-because-there-are-witnesses" side, when she said, "The same way you discovered me – we're the only two people in this room looking for a novelty."

That was only half-true. The pictures of Tanya Denali showed her as an attractive older woman of forty-two (well, forty-five, but what were three years among friends, _dahr-ling_), but her penchant for dressing to show off her rather well-preserved body was the dead giveaway. Bella had never even sniffed near the so-called elite, but in polite company, a revealing dress was considered as an insult to everything money (and old money especially) represented. Tanya Denali, however, wore a black dress that not only boasted a nice slit, but also a round neck that showed off her Roman shoulders and impressive cleavage. You needed to be either _very _rich, or know the hosts _very_ well, to pull that one off, Bella decided.

Tanya was not eyeing her at all, choosing to talk about random subjects. Bella tuned most of it out, until the topic of her host came up into conversation:

"Edward is a difficult one, isn't he? How did it come that you are staying with him?" Tanya inquired in a tone that suggested those that knew of it had a hard time coming up with a logical explanation. Since Bella had given up the idea of sharing her letters with the world at this point, she said:

"I was hired to make a genealogical research on his family." A bold faced lie, but since Tanya hadn't asked her what she had majored at, she didn't have a reason to doubt her.

"Ah. By him?"

"Not really."

"Ah, Carlisle and Esme. I should've known. A very well-known couple. The Chicago debutante and the son of a preacher. Caused quite a stir in the day." _Said like someone who was truly there_, Bella thought sourly "I suppose you find them to be a very stuck-up couple. Always trying to fit in."

"My opinion does not truly matter in this case, I believe," she replied diplomatically.

"But Edward, I bet it's an experience to live with him. Must be difficult to fend his advances off. Lord knows I had a hard time doing it."

Bella remained politely detached. "Actually, he's been a perfect gentleman so far." _Though his temper might need some improvement_, she added to herself.

"That's part of the routine, you'll soon find out." Tanya brushed it off, and then took a drag of her cigarette. After she blew a plume of smoke, she eyed Bella again and let out a small, mystic smile. "Though I will not worry about you, dear. Something tells me you will have no trouble fending off Edward's advances, no matter how direct they are."

Bella raised an eyebrow. "Oh? And why is that?"

"Are you married, dear?" Tanya asked.

"No."

"But you soon will be," she said, leaning in to whisper intimately in her ear "I can see it in your eyes. There is a man in your life, a man that has your heart in his possession, with whom you will never part."

A cold chill ran down Bella's spine as Tanya pulled away with a content smile. She felt the familiar silvers of panic creep through the edge of her vision and she fought hard to keep them away. One thousand…. Nine hundred-ninety-nine… nine hundred-ninety-eight… nine hundred-ninety-seven… It took her less than a second to start counting at the back of her mind, and she prayed dearly that Tanya hadn't noticed the hesitation.

"Never?" she asked in a tone that she hoped sounded coy.

"You two have something special, something no-one else has. Something you wouldn't risk over a cheap thrill…"

Those words were enough to stop whatever anxiety attack was coming up. Her guess hadn't been that off the mark, but if she thought Bella wouldn't give anything, anything to get rid of the old weight that was Jake, she was dead wrong.

Still, her skin prickled with cold, as if by just thinking about it she had summoned the old ghosts. Bella eased back in her seat and drank her wine, wishing that the bitter liquid was stronger. A little more, just a little more, she told herself, don't show weakness.

Meanwhile, Tanya was fascinated. Of course, she had already gotten the dirt from Bree and the other guests, that Edward had a woman at his house and was, by the appearances of it, not screwing her, and she had felt it her duty to check out the newbie. Isabella Swan, in her opinion, was supposed to be a naïve little girl, too busy to deny her attraction to a handsome man to notice when she had fallen into his bed.

But she was anything but naïve. To her every comment, she had a comeback. She avoided every jab. She didn't babble, flinch or get angry when Tanya suggested she was involved. Isabella sat there on that hideous couch as if it was a throne and her off-the-rack dress was a queen's grab. And she didn't seem very interested in Edward's past transgressions, Tanya thought with a smirk. An employee's attitude. Isabella was good at it, but she wondered how long she could keep up. Or…

"So, do you like to dance?" she asked. Bella looked surprised when she heard a slow song floating from a complicated looking sound system in the corner.

"Sometimes," she admitted. "I like Spanish. The sound caresses the ears."

"Indeed it does," Tanya agreed. Then she slid closer. "So how about now? Would you like to dance?"

"I really don't think they played it so that we could dance…" Bella began, before noticing the few couples moving in a leisurely rhythm in the middle of the room and it took her tired brain less than a second to realize what Tanya was getting at.

Bella wasn't stupid. She could see what Tanya was doing. But if this had started off as some feeble attempt at intimidation, it had somehow evolved into am inquiry that sought what exactly was wrong with her. Bella couldn't understand the logic in that. Was Edward Cullen so freaking irresistible that it was abnormal not to be attracted to him? Or, in her case, to be attracted to him without succumbing to the urge to fall down on her knees and offer her body to him? Why wasn't she allowed to just acknowledge that he was a handsome man and be done with it?

Tanya didn't seem to want to take no for an answer, so she got up and took Bella's hand in hers. "Come, dear. Let me help you with your troubles tonight."

"Actually…"

"Isabella." Edward's voice rang in her ear and a second later he was there, effortlessly wedging himself between the two women. "I've been looking all over for you. Hello, Tanya."

"Edward," the she-leopard purred and moved closer. For a second Bella wondered if Tanya Denali could deliver a hug without using her arms and then decided she didn't want to stick around for that. "How _are_ you?"

"Very tired. Just sealed that deal for the next movie. The flight was a killer." He lied seamlessly, and if Bella had picked up on it, she didn't make a fuss out of it. As it turned out, it was the right choice, because five minutes later they were out.

* * *

A/N - Yes, yes, I know, it's been forever. Blame real life and uni.

Once more, I'd like to thank Courtney for betaing this chapter. Hope everything's good with you, honey!

Reviews would be nice...


	10. Chapter Ten

_**Chapter Ten**_

_What have I done? _

That was the million dollar question, Edward thought as he drove home.

It was supposed to be a small dinner. An informal party for old friends. And he could've just done his duty – gone there, eaten the food, had one reasonable drink and then called a cab home. Nothing had obliged him to take Dr. Swan with him. In fact, he should've thought better of it, since Sulpicia Volturi knew many women, most of them his former girlfriends, and that she was bound to invite some of them over. Did he honestly think he could've gone there with a woman without running into one, or more, of his exes?

When he had walked into that room, he'd already been tired of the party and having the full intention to go back. Then he had seen the two women on the couch, and for the briefest, briefest of moments, he could've sworn he'd seen a flash of panic in Dr. Swan's eyes. Her face had gone pale and her hands had been clasped tightly into her lap, a sure sign that she was trying to stop them from shaking.

Hence why he was feeling like a complete idiot. His only defense in the case would have been that he never imagined Tanya would have the gal to approach him, or his guest, after the way they'd broken up. It didn't matter that he didn't like Dr. Swan much; she was still his guest and deserved respect. But Edward couldn't figure out a way to explain himself and apologize to her without coming off as the biggest ass in the history of forever.

It was just that she was always so judging! Whenever he imagined offering an apology, he would see her stern face behind the glasses (currently misplaced) and feel like an ignorant fool, which in turn made his inner jerk rear his ugly head. Edward couldn't come up with a single logical reason for his hostility towards Isabella Swan, other than the fact that she just rubbed him the wrong way. Always prim and proper and polite, with that hair pulled back ruthlessly. He longed to release it, to feel the texture of the curls, let it breathe, let her breathe, he wanted tear down the façade and see what was underneath, to see her undone, without pretense and…

And…

And now it came off as if he wanted to have sex with her.

Which was not true.

At all.

He cast a glance towards the object of his thoughts. She was slumped slightly in her seat, her elbow propped against the window and her face resting on her fist. Her dress had ridden up slightly, exposing her pale knees, while her head was angled so it could showcase her slender neck.

_Ok_, he reconsidered, _maybe a little attracted, but not out of the realms of the normal. I'm not dead._

Before either of them knew it, they were in front of the house. Edward killed the engine, but neither he nor Bella made a move to open the doors. He was deep in thought; she was well on her way to falling asleep. Finally, gathering his courage, he said:

"I guess that this evening wasn't as productive as we wanted it to be, huh?"

"Apparently not," she said, rolling her head back to work out the kinks in her neck. "Though you have some interesting friends."

_Let her blow up_, Edward thought, _let her blow up in my face so that I can come out as the right one this time._

"You mean Tanya?" he asked causally.

"No, I meant Bree, but Tanya as well. They're very similar, you know. Almost the same, only the former is the younger version," she said. "But Professor Volturi wasn't interested in whatever I had to say."

"Oh." Edward paused. "I'm sorry."

"For?"

"For whatever Tanya said to make you feel bad."

She stared at him for half a second, before releasing a peal of laughter. "Bad? You mean her measly attempts at intimidation? Oh, please, you don't have to be sorry about that. If anything, it was very amusing."

He stared at her, shell-shocked. "But I thought…"

"Make no mistake, I was kind of pissed that she automatically assumed we were sleeping together, but her know-it-all attitude quickly erased that."

"Oh."

That wasn't going according to plan. Their conversation, according to the plan, would involve a very offended Dr. Swan and a very apologetic Edward. He would be calm and polite and talk her through the hysteria, and they would go on with their lives, with him feeling righteous and her feeling humbled. However, the reality of it was that Tanya had only managed to amuse her, and Edward felt slightly offended that Isabella would think that her sleeping with him was just about as probable as snow in the Sahara desert.

"Well, I guess we better go in." She cut his thoughts off as she slipped out of the car and walked gracelessly to the front door porch. Edward raced after her.

"But surely," he began as they moved up the stairs to the second floor, "you weren't amused when she first started it."

"I wasn't, but like I said, I got over it." She shrugged. "It's better that you don't piss yourself off over something so insignificant."

"Funny. Most people wouldn't consider that insignificant, but apparently, you would think that being accused of sleeping with an employer is amusing."

Bella paused in front of her door and turned towards him slightly, eyebrows raised. "Pardon?"

"You're always so composed, so calm, of course you wouldn't be upset. Why do I even bother?" he asked himself, forgetting that he wasn't just speaking in his mind. She stared at him inquisitively.

"I don't seem to understand. You make it sound like you wanted Dr. Denali to upset me."

"I do," he blurted out. "No offence, but sometimes, even the most composed of people need a little shaking up. I don't understand how you could be so calm, as if you had no feelings, as if you were a robot."

Bella's mouth hung open.

"I think it would be very useless to get pissed over something as insignificant as another woman's unfounded jealousy."

"Tanya believes it's founded."

"But it's not true, and neither is her jealousy, since she tried to determine whether or not I was an idiot or a lesbian when she realized we weren't sleeping together." She bristled. "I don't see why you antagonize me so, Mr. Cullen. I have done nothing to offend you."

Edward took a deep breath and dug up some of his good manners from some deep well. "You're right. I'm sorry. But surely you know that you have this effect on people."

"What effect?"

"This. This… high school teacher effect. You make everyone feel like they're under scrutiny, that they're being disapproved of. It's haughty and it's also very unsettling. You act like you're doing the whole world a favor with your presence." He stopped when he realized what he was blurting. It shocked him – usually he was able to keep to himself, even in the middle of the worst fights. Dr. Swan stared at him, her expression neutral and unreadable, before she said:

"I do not see why it is so strange to you that I would not be insulted by someone who's not worth anyone's scorn? It makes no sense to be mad."

"Why should it?" he said. "Are you always all about sense? Have you never trusted your heart? How can you live like this?"

"I live like _this_ because it's a mode of life that suits me. I have worked my way through college, Mr. Cullen. That does not give me a reason to antagonize you for being a trust fund baby," she said, before decidedly stomping into her room and closing the door in his face.

* * *

Edward stood in the hall, staring at the dark rectangle of the door, too angry to speak or move. How dare she? A trust fund baby? Really? What next, was she going to accuse him of living off other people? He was a Cullen, following a time-honored family tradition and earning his living. If there was anyone who ought to be ashamed of their origins, it was probably her. She couldn't trace her family roots all the way back to the Middle Ages, he was sure.

He gathered his wits long enough to drag down to the living room and pour himself a drink. These thoughts did not suit him. Edward Cullen was a man of many flaws, but even Tanya couldn't add conceit to his sins. Pride, maybe, but he had never been big on his family's history. He trued to reason with himself – both he and Dr. Swan were tired. She had had a glass of wine, maybe a little more. He was sure the two of them would be more than happy to forget the incident in the morning and go on with their lives. She would continue her research and he would stop fantasizing about her. What was there to fantasize about anyway? She certainly didn't see him as a sexual object and he saw nothing attractive about shrewd, bitter women like her.

Preoccupied in his thoughts, he nearly missed the gentle ring of the doorbell and ran to open before someone else came down to see what was going on. He straightened his shirt and ran his hands through his hair, giving it a messy look, before opening the door:

"Hello, Bree."

* * *

Bella stormed in the bathroom, where she went about her night time rituals more slowly than usual, removing her make up and brushing her hair into a tail with meticulous, merciless strokes. Her lenses were removed and cleaned until her fingers were pruney. She removed her dress and put it away with care, making sure there wasn't a single crease in the material, and cursing under her breath all the way:

"Jealous? Of that woman? Pfft!" she said. "I can beat her Botox-filled ass to the ground any day. Thinks he knows me! What a joke!"

If anything about the whole story was insulting, it was his assumption that she might consider Tanya a rival. That would have implied certain equality between the two women, and Bella couldn't imagine how she could be compared to someone that was the living show of everything tacky and cliché.

"Moron. Who does he think I am?" she continued as she walked back into the bedroom. "I wish he could at least know his place, the bastard!"

Her words trailed off and she stifled a shriek when she saw Edward right in front of her, standing in the dark room. The garment bag fell on the floor as one of her hands flew to her throat and the other started for the light switch. For a second, dark spots of fear danced in front of her eyes, and she felt certain that she was going to faint.

And then it was over as fast as it had begun. She hit the switch and filled the room with light… and Edward disappeared.

She blinked. She grabbed her glasses to see better and was surprised to find them fog over the heat of her hand. The room was empty.

Bella walked over to the door to see if it was locked like she had left it, and it was. Her eyes raked around the room, from top to bottom, trying to locate any secret passages and whatnot. Nothing. Even the windows were bolted shut.

But she had seen him. She had. She knew she had. Edward Cullen, messy hair and sullen eyes and all, standing in front of her in spite of the locked doors and windows. And then he was gone, dust in the wind. Was she going mad? Or perhaps she had overestimated her alcohol tolerance that night? She wasn't sure, but this was no sexy daydream. It was a downright hallucination.

"Jesus…" she thought as she ran her fingers through her hair and gathered her things from her floor, before slipping into her pajamas and hiding under the quilt. Never mind she couldn't sleep – the heat made her feel a thousand times better.

* * *

It became painfully clear to him that Bree wasn't quite sober after she flounced into the house, dress askew and hair blown all over the place. She kissed him. She tasted like whiskey and something else, something very sweet.

"I've been waiting for you to call for forever," she said in a low, husky voice. Edward grinned and picked her up bridal style to carry her up the stairs. His bedroom was on the opposite end of the corridor, far away from Dr. Swan's room, but he still made an extra effort to be quiet as he passed it. He didn't want another showdown, not when he was in such a good mood.

Bree moaned quietly as he kissed down her neck. He got them into his room, set her down on the bed and pulled away to look at her. Even in her drunken state, she was beautiful. Pretty and curvy, with just about enough make-up to hide the natural flaws of her skin but not enough to make her look tacky. She was wholesome. She was lovely. And she was the opposite of Dr. Swan, at least as far as attitudes went.

He kissed her again, long and hard, and she pulled the shirt over his head. Her hands ran down his chest, fingers threading in the brownish-red tuffs of hair around his nipples, nails scraping the skin slightly. He ran his hands up her thighs, hips and sides, then slid behind her back and found the zipper of the dress. A second later the material slid down to her waist in a whisper of satin and silk, before he pulled it away completely to reveal her body. She found his belt buckle…

As Bree was struggling with his zipper, however, something strange happened. A wind started to howl outside, so strong and loud they couldn't ignore it after some time. Suddenly, the windows were thrown open with such force some of the glass cracked and a vase from his desk was sent flying towards the wall, where it shattered loudly. Bree screamed as Edward ran to close the windows, struggling against the biting cold that was more appropriate for a January afternoon than a midsummer night.

When he was finally done, the room was freezing. He stared at the carpet, littered with shreds of broken glass and porcelain, and felt immensely glad that he hadn't taken his shoes off.

Bree sat on the bed, eyes wide and frantic.

"What the hell was that?" she slurred, looking around like a deer in the headlights. "What just happened?"

"I don't know," Edward began, before realizing she wasn't expecting an answer. She looked around with growing panic, before bending in half and throwing up on the floor.

Thirty very painful minutes later, he had managed to wrestle Bree into one of his spare pajamas and forced her to lie down in one of the guest bedrooms. If the sudden windy weather hadn't been enough to kill the mood, her emptying her entire stomach's contents in front of him was a definite deal breaker. He couldn't possibly take advantage of a woman so obviously sick. When he was sure she was sound asleep, he left her two Tylenol on the nightstand as well as a glass of water, before seeing to his own room.

Another hour later he sat in a relatively clean place and rubbed his tired eyes. That night was definitely not going according to plan. Not only had his hopes of spending a pleasant evening at Suplicia's completely plummeted, his booty call had showed up half in the bag and the weather had decided to play tricks on him. He wanted nothing more than to rest and forget about it, but he knew he couldn't sleep in a cold room. The wind filtered through the cracks in the glass, the holes in the windows.

Resigned, he got on his feet and walked down to the first floor again, fully intending to borrow a page from Mr. Rochester and spend the night in exile from his quarters and into the library couch. Only when he got there, he was surprised to find somebody had gotten there first.

* * *

A/N Once more, power to Courtney for helping me out and putting up with me. You're awesome, sweets!


	11. Chapter Eleven

_**Chapter Eleven**_

Edward saw the light and was immediately weary. He looked around, searching for something to use against possible thieves, and only saw family antiques and old pictures. Taking an old paperweight that was on display on a nearby desk, he stalked towards the library door and pushed it open.

Dr. Swan was standing near the stacks, dressed in an old pair of flannel pajamas and pink bunny slippers, glasses in place and hair in a tight pigtail. Her back was to him as she scanned the titles, seemingly unaware that she was being watched. She seemed calm, almost serene, as she raised her hand and touched the spines delicately.

Knowing that it was ungentlemanly to keep her ignorant of his presence, he coughed politely to get her attention. She turned around quickly, but her expression was one of surprise, not of contempt.

Always a good sign, he thought.

"I couldn't sleep," she said in a way of introduction. He nodded understandingly. "You said I could help myself… I finished my own book."

"Need any recommendations?" he asked as he stepped into the room. She shook her head no, before her eyes made a telltale dash between his face and his chest and then backwards. It was then he realized he was still clutching the paperweight, and, more importantly, that he was still half naked. "Can if offer you anything? Tea? Warm milk?" he babbled, hoping for an opening that would provide him with a quick escape.

"No, but feel free to get whatever you want for yourself," she said quickly, picking a volume up at random and heading for one of the chairs.

Edward scurried to his room, found a T-shirt, ran back down, left the paperweight and went straight for the kitchen. There, he wondered between milk and tea, chose neither and poured a glass of wine. After a quick thought, he poured another one.

Dr. Swan was still there when he returned, reclining on the chair with the book in her lap. Her face was relaxed, studious, as her eyes followed the lines. She had folded her feet under her, with her ridiculous bunny slippers still on. He paused at the door, watching her for just a moment, before stepping in with his most accommodating smile. "I know you said you didn't want anything, but I thought that I could interest you in a little nightcap," he said.

"It wouldn't work, but thanks anyway," she said as she picked up the cup from his hand and clinked it with his in a sort of toast. "To insomnia."

"To insomnia," Edward agreed, before sinking into the chair opposite hers. Something was different about her, he thought. Maybe because she had dropped that official tone in her voice she also looked calmer. Younger. "So, you don't sleep?"

"Hardly at all," she said, rolling her head again to ease the pain in her neck. "Sometimes, if I'm lucky, I get about five hours of R.E.M. But that's wishful thinking on nights like this one." She nodded towards the window, where the wind was bending the trees to the ground and howling loudly.

"I'm sorry to hear that," he said. "I know I already said that, but feel free to come in here whenever you need anything."

"Thank you, I think I will," she said, showing him the copy of "The Order of Things" she had picked up. After a few minutes of staring into the page, she looked up again and said, "I'm sorry for what I said a while back. It was not right."

"It wasn't unprovoked," Edward mumbled, raking his brain for anything that could lighten up the situation. "Though really, a trust fund baby?"

"I've heard you work. You may have had the money, but the talent is all yours." She shrugged.

That was probably the best moment for him to say goodnight and go finish his wine in one of the guest rooms. For some reason or another though, Edward felt the need to continue the conversation, as if it was another chance for him to make things right. "To give credit where it's due, I really did have a lot of money. I don't know what it's like to work through college," he said, looking at her with the hopes of her taking the bait.

"It wasn't tragic, but it definitely put an extra strain on things. I had a scholarship, yeah, but that only goes so far," she said.

"You picked an interesting major. Most people settle for an M.A. and go into teaching."

"Are you asking me why I didn't save myself some gray hairs and go off teaching kids in some high school?" Bella asked coyly.

"I'm just curious," Edward amended. "It's not a bad profession. You get to form impressionable young minds. You may have even managed to inspire some of the future writers of America."

Much to his surprise, Dr. Swan chuckled. "I would have said I'm no role model material, but the truth is that I am very impatient with teenagers. Snooty, annoying kids who think they know everything." Her eyes darkened for a split second and then she regained her composure. "I'm much better with college students. Some of them have already realized that you actually need to put an effort into passing a class."

"But in a way, they're not all that different from teens."

"The best case scenario would've been me and my books in a country house in the middle of nowhere, but that's not possible for the next thirty years or so."

"A country house? Really?"

She shrugged. "When other people imagined their shining careers, I imagined my retirement. A nice little country house which I would share with a large bloodthirsty German Shepherd to ward off thieves, where I could read and write and tend to my roses all day. Not a big surprise. My mom said I was born thirty and got more middle aged with every year."

That much was true, Edward thought, only the few glimpses of the vibrant, happy Dr. Swan had shown him she was a person that liked to celebrate life, not shrink away from it. "There's nothing wrong in wanting some peace and quiet. When I'm in L.A. all I ever wish about is a quiet evening at home with a scone and a cup of Jasmine tea."

"But when you get your scone and tea you'd be dreaming about Rodeo Drive and glamorous dinners," she said. "I hate outings of any sort. If I could cut myself off from humans for good, it would be perfect."

"You'll grow tired of it," Edward stated with authority.

"Oh? And how would you know?" Dr. Swan asked, her eyebrows rising.

"My parents have an island in the South Pacific. I requested to spend a month there for my birthday all alone, when I was twenty." He wrinkled his nose at the memory. "I was halfway mad with boredom by the end of the first week."

The ease with which he spoke the statement rendered her speechless. She stared for a beat, two, three, before saying quietly, "I guess that you really need to have been there to know."

Edward shrugged. "Different values, I'm sure." Her previous statements came back to him, about her working through college and having a scholarship, and made him wonder about her life. "Tell me about yourself. What was your childhood like?"

Bella paused with her wine glass midway to her mouth, contemplating his question. Was it wise to get all personal with him? Probably not, she decided as she drank, but suddenly found herself uncaring. It was a pleasant conversation, why end it?

"There's nothing much to tell. My parents married young and divorced a few years later. My mom liked to travel and we moved a lot before I moved in with my dad. Charlie was the police chief in Forks, Washington, and my mom has been unemployed for as long as I have known her. I'm the only literate scion in the Swan family for… nearly a century, after Grandma Helen," she said. "I used to think there was some mistake in the nursery when I was born and that my parents went home with the wrong baby, when I was little."

"I'm guessing your literary interests weren't the only difference."

"No, they weren't." She was thoughtful for a long time. "I'm the only one in the family who could bear the sin of ambition too."

"Now, you exaggerate. Everyone goes after something they want in a time," he said.

"Oh, yes, but my parents were never as bad as I was. Renee likes to live for the moment, while Charlie was stuck forever in the small town snow globe, if you know what I mean. I wanted to go out into the world and make money, greedy child that I am." She was eyeing the wine as if she was halfway into the bag already, before sipping again. "If I wasn't, I would have settled for teaching, or tried writing novels from my childhood bedroom. And since Renee can't keep ten dollars in her pocket and Charlie's job didn't pay very well, you can imagine I wasn't happy with my financial situation in college."

She said that before she finished her wine in one long gulp and handed the empty glass to Edward. Since he had finished his own drink, he went to the kitchen to refill them again, while wondering how to respond to what she had said.

"You know," he began when he came back, "I've been wondering, since we're on the revelations stage of friendship, would you mind it if we went to a first name basis? I don't really feel like calling you Dr. Swan right now."

"Sure, Edward, just call me Isabella," she said as she took the wine from him. "Or Bella…" she amended after a thought. "Whatever rocks your boat."

Edward considered it. "So, Isabella, you worked through college?"

"Yeah. Worked before college too, but… well… Money is never enough."

It was such a simple statement, "Money is never enough", but it had a strange impact on him. She had said it in a tone that suggested everyone understood it perfectly, as if it was an established truth, yet he had no idea what it meant. The simple truth about Edward Cullen was that he had been born with a silver spoon in his mouth and that his parents had brought him up so that he was never in the need of anything. Now yes, they had taught him that money comes with its own baggage and that he ought to be conscious about the way he spent it, but he never had to work in high school or college, let alone need to constantly obsess over his GPA in order to keep a scholarship.

It suddenly became clear to him how very different he was from Isabella. All the little things about her, from the first time he had seen her, to that moment, were shown into an entirely new light to him. The way she had stared at the feast Mrs. Cope had prepared for them, as if it was the first time she saw so much food in one place. The way she had gotten defensive when he had asked why the letters hadn't been found earlier. Her awestruck face when she had seen the library. Those were the expressions of a person who came in contact with wealth, probably for the first time in their lives.

Edward thought with slight discomfort about his own attitude. No wonder she had been so patronizing of him, he had acted like a spoiled brat.

"It's odd," he said suddenly. "Have you noticed how this conversation suddenly clicked?"

"Antipathy has worked its magic and now its sympathy's turn." She picked up the volume in her lap and leaved through it, seeking the passage she wanted. "Basically, Foucault points out that sympathy is one of the forms of likeness, but it is so strong that it renders things identical to one another and makes them completely alike. That's why antipathy needs to counter it. Ah, there it is: "Through this play of antipathy, which disperses them, yet draws them with equal force into mutual combat, makes them into murderers and then exposes them to death in their turn, things and animals and all the forms of the worlds remain what they are." I think that means that in order for us to like each other we need to hate each other first."

"You have read the book, I see. It took me a month to get through it."

"I like to read." She shrugged. "I wouldn't have chosen English if I didn't. I love books, always did. The stories seemed more real than anything in life."

"You know, Foucault has a chapter on Don Quixote in that book. He represents him as an embodiment of stories," Edward said. "Wouldn't you be turning into him if you gave your life to reading the stories instead of going out to make them come to life?"

"But I do make them come to life. What use is a story without its Reader? Besides, you don't see me saddling my horse and charging at windmills."

"No, just trying to unmask what is real life," he mumbled in a low voice, before asking "What was your dissertation about?"

"Virginia Wolfe, "The Waves". Modern British literature is my thing. It was a far cry from my Master's thesis. I did Shakespeare."

"Which one?"

"The Taming of the Shrew."

How appropriate, Edward thought briefly, before refocusing his attention: "That was a good choice. Most people would have chosen "Romeo and Juliet"."

"I hate that play." Bella shook her head with disgust "Say what you want about Shakespeare, but he was not famous for his brilliant plots. "Romeo and Juliet" is basically the story of two idiots."

"They loved each other," he pointed out, surprised at his own defensiveness.

"Loved? Oh, yeah, sure, they loved each other. What a great reason! They had no regard for their loved ones, their families, for life. And don't get me started on how uncharacteristic it was for that time and age for people to choose love over their families."

"Doesn't it show the change, the new age? Stepping out into a new age and stuff?" He asked, feeling more and more like a schoolboy on an exam. Again. Bella swirled the wine in her glass and thought for a while, before saying:

"There was still a long way to go. Did you know-" she continued, "-that ours is the society that puts together marriage, sexual desire and romantic love? No one before us thought about it before. According to Jorge Bukay, it's one of the most difficult things to accomplish."

"No. Really?" Edward stared.

"Yeah. According to him, people nowadays live under the misapprehension that being in a couple is what would automatically solve all of their problems, when in truth, it is just the opposite. Being in an intimate relationship requires you to interact with your special one for long periods of time on a daily basis, which makes you see yourself, your flaws and your good sides, more closely than you ever had. When you're so much more aware of yourself problems automatically arise, and it is up to you and your partner to get through them. Actually, now that I think about it, that would explain people's attitudes with marriage. Women make such a big deal out of it because they think that it'll be their happy ending, while men are terrified of it because they think it's the end of excitement," she mused, looking slightly out of it.

Edward chose this moment to rise. "Perhaps we've both had a little too much for one night. How would you like it if we retire and continue this discussion in the morning?"

"If you're tired, you're free to go to bed, but I don't sleep," she replied.

Edward knelt by her chair and gave her the puppy eyes:

"Won't you make an effort, just for me? I won't be able to sleep knowing that you're up."

"Pfft," she snorted. "You'll go out like a light. It's nearly three in the morning."

"Just to ease my conscious," he said, adding a pout to the mix. She was half way into the bag anyway, he mused, how hard would it be to make her go to sleep.

"Oh, well," she mumbled and set the book down, then the glass as well. "I s'ppose I can give it a try. Just once." She stood on her legs shakily. "I might need some help here, though."

Edward chuckled and wrapped his arm around her waist, propping her up by his side and walking her out of the room, up the stairs, and into her own quarters. She had gone oddly silent, her eyes staring unseeingly in the distance, and he worried that she might have fallen asleep. But she wouldn't. As soon as she saw her bed, she said, "You're not going to go and try and take advantage of me, are you? Cause, sadly, I forgot all my sexy lingerie back in Seattle."

Edward, having already gotten used to the fact that he'd be taking care of drunken women that night, just rolled his eyes:

"Fear not, your virtue is safe with me," he said as he let her go. Bella snorted:

"Don't pull this bullshit with me; I know what you men want. Though right now a goat would be a better comp'ny than me." she propped herself on her back on the bed and quoted: " _'Thou still unravish'd bride of quietness'_… how appropriate."

He rolled his eyes:

"I may be a man, but I've been raised to wait until a lady is sober before I take advantage of her."

"Not that I would mind it if you did anyway. I know Tanya thinks you're irresistible and it'll be better for me if I go on proving her wrong, but right now, you don't seem like such a bad idea."

"Your kindness warms the cockles of my heart," he said.

"It's the truth. I'd gladly sleep with you, if the circumstances were right."

"Well then-" Edward leaned over to tuck her in and took her glasses off to put them on her night stand, "-I'll take you up on that later."

"Please do. I've never been ravished before."

By the time he left her she wasn't asleep, but her lids were dropping heavily, so he didn't doubt that she would drift away soon enough. He wasn't too far away from sleeping himself, but one look at the horror in his bedroom had him turning into the bathroom instead. He stepped into the shower and cranked up the cold water – perhaps he could stay awake for a few hours more, so that he could at least clean up and then sleep the day away in a pair of clean sheets.

It wasn't until he stepped out of his clothes and he was confronted with a new raging hard-on did Edward remember his plans for the night. He hadn't been able to get any release from Bree, and the additional drunken love-and-sex talk with Dr. Swan… well, Isabella now, hadn't helped either. Resigning himself that it was just him and his hand that night, he changed the temperature of the water and tried not to think of the soft, curvy body he'd helped into bed, or a red, pouty mouth that quoted Keats at him.


	12. Chapter Twelve

_**Chapter Twelve**_

Bella woke up around seven after a record three hours and a half of sleep. She groaned when she sat up in bed and felt her head hurt – too much damned wine. Way, way too much of it…

She scrambled to the suitcase for painkillers, before going to the bathroom and taking a cold shower to revive herself a bit.

"I'm never drinking again," she mumbled as the water spray beat into her flesh mercilessly. "I get way too talkative when drunk," she continued, saying it to no-one in particular, before leaning her forehead on the slippery tiled wall. She couldn't think of a single occasion of her getting drunk that she didn't regret. Not a single one.

Bella furrowed her brow, wondering what idiocies she had done at that party, looking for things to add to her wall of shame. But no, she had only drunk one glass of wine at Professor Volturi's. She remembered talking to Dr. Denali, which was probably what drove her to drink in the first place, or perhaps it had been the fight with Edward…

Her eyes snapped open and she nearly tumbled on the ground. Edward. She had fought with Edward. They had yelled at each other, calling themselves names and all sorts of uncivilized things… and then, then… then she couldn't sleep and had gone down to the library, looking for something to read… Edward had found her there and they had talked like nothing had happened… of almost… and then more wine…

Bella sank to her knees and covered her mouth with her hand. God, what had that man poured in her wine? She had babbled like a seventh-grader in front of a crush. Worse, he had let her babble. And then, when he had helped carry her to her room, she had all but sexually propositioned to him. Wearing her oldest pajamas and pink bunny slippers no less. She wished the ground would swallow her whole.

Edward hadn't seemed much put off by her pathetic display, even going as far as to promise he would take her up on it later. Had he been serious? Would he remember anything when he woke up? Would he laugh it off as a drunken rambling or just add her verbal diarrhea to the list of her many flaws?

The questions didn't help her headache at all.

Finally, after indulging in her panic attack for enough time, she scrambled to her feet and set on getting ready for the day, although she wished for nothing else but to spend the rest of her life in the bathtub. She dried and combed her hair meticulously, tied it back, put on a comfortable skirt and a blouse with short sleeves, all the while wondering how to act. Nonchalance was probably best, although she wasn't sure if he would like it so much. Hadn't he told her she looked like a cold schoolteacher? Perhaps she had to smile more, and be pleasant. She could do pleasant. Plenty of it.

"Good morning, Mr. Cullen, how did you sleep," she said, trying out the phrase, and rejected it immediately. "No, he wanted me to call him Edward. Hello, Edward, how did you sleep… no, how was your night… Oh, God, I am a schoolteacher!"

Despairing, she picked up her glasses and stared at her reflection. She looked sullen and uneasy. In a sudden fit of inspiration, she rummaged her small bag of toiletries and retrieved whatever cosmetic products she had. As well as she could without contacts, she covered up the dark circles under her eyes and the greenish tint to her face, and put some pink lipstick for color. Slightly better, she decided and walked down.

Edward wasn't in the dining room, library, or any other place she usually saw him in the morning. It took her a while to realize that he, unlike her, wasn't an insomniac, and that his body would need its seven hours of sleep. Resigned, and slightly relieved, she walked to the kitchen where she found Mrs. Cope elbows deep into the preparation of yet another enormous feast.

"Good morning, Mrs. Cope. How are you today?" Bella greeted pleasantly.

"Good morning, Dr. Swan, I'm fine," she said, not looking up from her task. "There's tea in the pot, if you like. Coffee's in the drawer over there, if you want one."

"Thank you," Bella said, maneuvering over the large table and picking up the packet of coffee, only to realize it was no more than roasted beans. "Um, Mrs. Cope…"

"You can brew it over there." She cocked her head. "Mr. Edward usually drinks tea, so I only keep beans around for guests."

"I see," Bella said and watched Mrs. Cope pull out a sheet of cookies from the over and then load it with muffins. She was curious, of course, as to why the god woman always cooked so much, but of course, that question was probably fated to remain in the grid under 'unanswered'. "Mr. Cullen has quite some appetite…"

"Oh, yes, especially after a wild night," Mrs. Cope said with a suggestive wriggle of her eyebrows. It made her pause what she was doing and look over to the housekeeper.

"Really?" she asked, hoping that she sounded completely disinterested.

"Oh, yes. His lady guest left half an hour ago, but he's still upstairs, sleeping," Mrs. Cope said.

"You seem sure of it," Bella mumbled.

"I always like to get up early." The housekeeper smiled brightly. "And even if I hadn't seen the car tracks, the other evidence was everywhere. There were two wine glasses in the library and his bedroom was a raging mess when I arrived to help him clean up. They'd broken an old vase in their vigor…" Mrs. Cope tsked disapprovingly. "Young people never stop to consider. That was an old antique, left behind by Mrs. Cullen's mother. I bet Mr. Edward would have to pay a fortune to get it repaired, as well as the windows upstairs."

The woman shook her head, while Bella's heart sank. The wine glasses, she knew, had been left by Edward and herself, but she hadn't stepped even close to his room, so she was sure she hadn't been the perpetrator for the mess. Or maybe she was? She wasn't entirely sure.

"You're shocked, I suppose, that you haven't heard it?" Mrs. Cope asked, mistaking her silence for astonishment. "I know, my dear, I was a little frazzled myself when I came here some four years ago, but I got used to it quite quickly. These great men can be very sudden and rash in their whims, and a good servant needs to keep quiet."

"I'm just a little surprised. You've only been his housekeeper for four years?"

"Oh, yes, came after I got fired from my old job. He was kind enough to take me in, even if I'm close to the retirement age myself," Mrs. Cope said. "That's why I'm so grateful to Mr. Edward, he gave me a chance, and so I decided not to pay attention to his promiscuous ways. One gets used to it, after a while, anyway."

"I suppose his guests don't give you much trouble," Bella said in an attempt to keep her the conversation light.

"Of course not. Most of these girls know their place. They understand that Mr. Edward is often very busy and has no time for an actual relationship, so they settle for what he can give. I don't mind it; after all, a man needs to satisfy his urges. Although…" Mrs. Cope paused enough to admire her reflection in the recently polished butter knife "…it is pretty obvious, even if they were very dense, that that is all they can receive. There's a difference between warming his bed and being a Mrs. Cullen. Oh, I remember how the papers used to cover the parties thrown by Mr. Edward's grandfather. They looked so grand, so amazing. It takes a special kind of woman to be mistress of this." She coughed. "More coffee, Dr. Swan?"

"Oh, no, thank you…" Bella mumbled, standing up. "I'm just going to take this to the library."

"I'll bring you a plate of cookies as soon as they cool off." Mrs. Cope smiled gently. However, Bella noticed none of that. Her body went on autopilot, and it wasn't until she was in the safety of the library that she allowed herself to sink to the floor, shaking.

He'd been with a woman the previous night. In the night, with her awake not ten feet away from him. Had he received his guest after he'd put her to sleep or had he been fucking her before he came down to the library. Maybe that was the reason why he had been so pleasant, Bella thought and felt slightly sick in the stomach. Who had it been? Tanya? Or maybe little Bree? Probably Bree, Tanya looked like someone who could keep it up all night long.

She ran her hand down her face, rubbing the make-up off messily. The lipstick left a long glossy line on the back of her hand. Bella looked down on it with disgust – what had she been thinking? What had she been imagining? He was, for all intends and purposes, her employer, just like he was to Mrs. Cope. She had no job flirting with him or reprimanding him for enjoying a little willing female company. He was a young, strong man, what had she been expecting from him to do at night – play Scrabble?

What was she doing, she thought, imagining that she had anything, anything at all, to the likes of Tanya or even Bree? Yes, intellectually and emotionally, she was by light years ahead of them, but in beauty, she was nothing. She would have to sell her nonexistent soul, Bella thought, to get that glamour and that beauty men seemed to like so much.

Dejected, she sat down on the desk and drank her coffee in one single gulp. She had to focus her forces on that job, she thought, decide what she wanted to do and get out of Chicago, before she did something else she would regret.

* * *

Edward didn't come down until noon, and since Bella refused to eat lunch, they didn't see each other until late afternoon. She had taken a break to stretch her fingers and her legs, and the window with the view of the garden had proven to be too much of a temptation for her to resist. The grass was green and fresh, the trees cast dark, cool shadows, and she was feeling her heart open to nature. She stepped out of the house, out of her shoes, and walked barefoot on the grass until she reached the tree she had seen from her bedroom window.

It was a lovely oak with a dark bark and heavy, large branches. When she reached it, the wind made the leaves flutter and a few stray tendrils of hair dance around her face.

"Taking a break?"

The voice startled her and she turned around with a sheepish smile. "Couldn't resist."

Edward smiled weakly, still looking a little tired from the long night. "I guess you were right about the insomnia. I couldn't get up until twelve, and Mrs. Cope tells me you've been holed up in the library since early morning."

Bella shrugged. "I wasn't tired to begin with." She looked at him pointedly. "You, however, had a very exhausting night."

"You're right, by God," he said as he approached her a little more. They stood under the shade of the tree and he was close enough for her to smell him. Mint, she registered, and something else, something strong. "I don't know how you manage to function in the morning."

"Practice," she said, stepping back slightly.

Edward paused. He didn't have a reason to be out of the conservatory, talking to her, other than the simple desire to have a nice chat with her, like they had the previous night… before she got drunk, that is. "I was wondering… I'm a little tired today for anything, but I wanted to make up to you for the previous night. I need to go around the antique stores in town tomorrow, so I was wondering if you would like to accompany me?"

"What for?" she asked. "I mean, why do you need to go around the stores?"

"I need to see if anyone can repair a vase I broke yesterday, or if they can replace it. It was an ugly thing, but maybe my mom would be pissed…" Bella didn't need to hear more. She was sure it was the vase he had broken the previous night in the throes of passion with another woman, and now he wanted her to join him as he sought replacement. What was she supposed to make of that? Beating a hasty retreat, she said quickly:

"I would love to, really Mr. Cullen, but I really, really need to get on with the letters, catalogue my notes and stuff, so if you don't mind, I'll skip it."

"That's not a problem, I was just…"

"Oh, look at the time; I'll need to be off. I promised myself to work until six thirty and I still have a ton of work. Please excuse me…"

* * *

Edward watched her run back into the house as if the Devil himself was chasing her and wondered if she was just acting coy or perhaps being modest after her performance the previous night.

He'd really wanted to take her antiquing with him, since she looked like she might enjoy it, but now that she had refused him, he wondered if it had been for the best. After all, she was a relatively attractive, intelligent woman, with whom he would spend a little more than two weeks with. He wasn't sure if he and Isabella Swan would manage to keep their relationship strictly professional, or if they would succumb to the urge and end up fucking, but he reasoned that he didn't need to add fuel to the fire. He wasn't sure he could remain being a gentleman with her if they were alone for an extended period of time, not after what she had said to him the previous night… or rather, the early morning.

The next day, Bella got up early, but when she descended the stairs and looked out the window, she noticed that Edward's Volvo was missing from the drive. So he had decided to leave early, she thought, and headed straight to the library. That time, she didn't need the coffee – she'd managed to get a couple extra hours of shut eye, which was more than she could wish for, in her mind. Besides, the letters of Edward Masen were becoming more and more interesting, and she was curious to see what happened afterwards.

Two hours later, she still hadn't looked up from her papers, so Mrs. Cope's polite greeting had her nearly jumping out of her skin in fright.

"I'm sorry," Bella breathed. "I didn't hear you."

"It's alright. Mr. Edward left early today."

"Yes, I know."

"He asked me to tell you he might not return until late tonight. He was planning on meeting his parents for lunch and then to go fix that vase…"

"He mentioned something like that." Bella nodded, wishing for the housekeeper to just get to the point so that she could continue with her work.

"I was wondering, Dr. Swan…" Mrs. Cope began. "Since you are doing the research on Mr. Edward Masen, if you would like to see his room? After all, you are digging in his history; perhaps his chambers would pose some interest to the research."

"Actually, I'm just…" Bella stopped herself before she started to babble again. "I don't think his room has anything to do with the research, but…"

"It won't take long."

"Well…"

"Do come," the housekeeper said, opening the library door for emphasis. "You do need a walk every now and again."

Not knowing how to respond without offending her, Bella put her pen down and walked obediently behind the lady. They moved down the corridor until they reached the back stairs and started climbing them. They passed the second floor and headed for the third. The trip took longer than Bella would have thought, since the stairs were narrow and old, and Mrs. Cope stopped every now and again to point at portraits hanging suspended from the walls.

"This Mr. Masen was a very virile man," Bella said when they reached the landing.

"What do you mean?"

"Climbing up and down those stairs several times a day every day…" Bella said as she held onto the rail and looked down. She wasn't one to suffer from vertigo, but she thought off-handedly that if she fell down those stairs she could easily end up with a broken neck. "Even when he was an old man…" she mused as she looked around. They were in a dark corridor with a low ceiling. "Where are we?"

"This is the top floor, right under the roof. Some of the family rooms were situated in order for the members to have a little privacy," Mrs. Cope explained.

"Oh, I guess that makes sense," Bella said. "He must've liked the quiet."

"Indeed," her companion said as she opened one door. "Here it is."

Even if Bella was usually squeamish about the things of a person long dead, she couldn't help but appreciate the small, but well furnished room. The large bed, the desk, the small cabinets and the large dresser were probably all antiques, all very expressive. She stepped in slowly, as if she was entering a museum display. "This is lovely…"

"Back in the day every room in the house was occupied. Now that it's just Mr. Edward, it doesn't make sense to keep all the wings open, but I have so much free time, I clean up everywhere," Mrs. Cope declared not without pride. And, indeed, the room was so clean you could eat off the floor. Bella saw her reflection in a side door and opened it curiously. It turned out to be a closet, as big as her and deep enough to keep both her summer and winter clothes, shoes, and probably some of her roommates' clothes too. Bella looked up at the ceiling. There was no rail where they could hang clothes on, just a small hook.

"He died there, you know." Mrs. Cope's voice floated behind her and before Bella could turn around to see if the housekeeper was joking or not, she felt a strong push on her lower back and stumbled in the closet. She turned around just enough to catch sight of Mrs. Cope's mocking smile before she shut the closet door on her and turned the key in the lock. Bella's breath flew out of her throat and she lunged for the door.

"Mrs. Cope!" she yelled, banged on the door, but, of course, it wouldn't move.

"Hung himself on that hook above your head," the housekeeper continued calmly, as if she hadn't just locked her in a dark closet. "At such an admirable age too. Nobody could understand why, just one day he wrote his will and then made himself a noose. Since you're studying him now, I'm sure you would like to spend some time in there."

"No, no please let me out…" Bella begged. "Please, there's no need…"

"Oh, indeed! Don't worry; you won't detain me from my duties. I will go about my job, and when I am finished I'll come up to get you down," she said in a calm, soothing voice. "You just take your time, _Dr._ Swan, and do your job like you're supposed to."

"No, no, no…." Bella started to panic. "Mrs. Cope, please! Mrs. Cope! MRS. COPE!" she screamed when she heard the door the room shut and the housekeeper's retreating steps. She slammed her fists against the door, willing it to break, willing it to move, but of course, nothing of the like happened. It was a good door, strong and thick with good hinges. That old sadist probably kept it perfectly oiled, Bella thought, so that they wouldn't make a sound. She knelt down to the keyhole, but it was blocked. The only light was a thin strip filtering from under the door.

She felt herself shiver. There was no way out. She was stuck. Edward wasn't due until late, and only God knew if Mrs. Cope would take her sweet time leaving her in that dump.

As Bella stood there, she felt a chill, so strong and so sharp it made her teeth clatter. It enveloped every inch of her skin, making her curve into a ball on the floor and wrap her arms around herself. The darkness was all-consuming – no shapes, no angles, no nothing, just a vast, dark space. She stared straight ahead and willed herself to stay calm. It was cold, but she would cope with it. She couldn't stay there for long. She had to stay strong, she told herself, even as tears of frustration climbed into her eyes.

Somewhere in the house, a phone started to ring.

* * *

_A/N So I wasn't sure if I wanted to continue with this story or not. I'm busy, but I have chapters ready. What do you guys think?_


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